


~Xelqua: The Comet Cometh~

by BubblyBee



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: M/M, Mentions of religion, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The Victorian AU literally nobody asked for, Yes I made Ren a literal dog but He's a good boy, take that as you will, the amount of research I put into old english/british lingo is ridiculous, theres a bunch of hinted shipping everywhere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24279835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblyBee/pseuds/BubblyBee
Summary: A man yearning to know the scientific truth of the universe, a stranger cloaked in mystery, a strange man that claims to be a coachman but dresses too fine, and a young handmaid who wants nothing more than to be free of the people and poverty that holds her down.Xisuma was an astronomer, doctor, scientist, and a master of the Cabala. Every hour of every day was spent working out the times of the rising of the sun, the waning of the stars, and the phases of the moon as it crossed the sky.But now? As the earth quaked like never before and the skies turned pitch black- He slightly wished he'd never learned what was coming to pass. He slightly wished he'd remained ignorant."Xelqua…the bright star shall fall from the sky...and many will die from its bitterness."
Relationships: Charles | Grian/Joe Hills, Welsknight/Xisumavoid
Comments: 11
Kudos: 43





	1. The Night all Hell Broke Loose

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! First off I'd like to say that this fic concept is inspired by Wormwood by G. P. Taylor. Secondly- please do not brush off any of the tags. This first chapter here throws you right into that "graphic violence" tag and it does not let up. Please do not take it lightly.  
> This fic takes place in the real world(around the more victorian era) but only uses the Minecraft Personas of the hermits.  
> This is my first properly published fic here and I will be honest in saying not to put any fics I put out on this platform in the future up to the standard. This has been and is going to be the most detailed and worked on fic I will ever write as it's a passion project during this quarantine i've been planning carefully for weeks now.  
> I will warn that because of how detailed and particular I'm going to be with this fic that updates might be once a week at most. I've promised myself to only put out my best for every chapter.  
> Now without further ado- enjoy the story~!!  
> (Comments are appreciated please and thank you <3)

From the top-floor window of his large four-story house in Bloomsbury square, Dr. Xisuma Void could see the farthest depths of space. He stared out into the night sky through the lens of his long brass telescope. He had watched the skies for the past week and he was waiting- waiting for the sign that he knew would come that night. The strange glow to the north had grown stronger and brighter, causing the stars to fade and never allowed the night to be truly dark. The full moon had burnt bloodred, lighting the streets with a warm crimson glow almost as bright as the sun.  
Xisuma was an astronomer, doctor, scientist, and a master of the Cabala. Every hour of every day was spent working out the times of the rising of the sun, the waning of the stars, and the phases of the moon as it crossed the sky. Xisuma turned the minute-glass as the sand timer spilled its soft white particles from one orb to the other, and on the fifty-ninth count he took great pride in waiting until the final grains of sand had trickled from the top chamber before carefully turning the large hourglass. The dark wood of the hourglass was decorated with serpent columns whose jewel eyes, gold teeth, and carved scales shimmered in the moonlight. Xisuma checked each sand hour against the old brass clock that ticked and tocked laboriously next to the astrolabe on the ornate stone mantel of the empty fireplace.  
Xisuma did the Cabalistic calculations all night, every night. From his computations he knew that somewhere in the Twelfth House of the universe a sign would be given. The Nemorensis said so. The Nemorensis never lied; it was the only book to be trusted. It was said to touch the Nemorensis was to hold the secrets of the cosmos in your hands. No one knew where the book had come from, but many had died trying to find its secrets.  
Now the Book of Nemorensis belonged to Xisuma. It was his by right, divine right, as he often thought to himself. As he looked into deep space, he thought of the morning of the Feast of Saint Quirtle when, shortly after dawn, he had opened the parcel that a coachman had delivered to his door.

From the outset Xisuma had been suspicious of the coachman, because he had never seen someone who claimed such a low estate to be dressed so well. There was no hint of shabbiness in his neat black coat and clean boots. His pure white skin held no trace of hard labour, no trace of London grime from horse muck and carriage grease. What had intrigued Xisuma about the man was the gold ring he wore on the middle finger of his right hand. It had a large red stone set in a gold mount cut into the shape of the sun. From one side a flaming trail formed the thick gold band that encircled his finger. Messenger the man was, coachman he was not!  
But Xisuma’s eye had immediately been enticed by the shape and contours of the gift he was being offered. This was an epiphany, a gift to a wise man- a wise man lured by a passion that he could feel rising from the soles of his feet and turning in his stomach. It was an exquisite feeling, exciting and dangerous. Deep inside, Xisuma knew that the gift he was about to open would have life-changing possibilities.  
The package had been tightly wrapped in gold silk cloth and tied with red cotton braid, a color so bright and vivid that it shimmered and looked fluid. There was nothing to say about who had sent such a fine gift and the coachman had, when questioned, been vague as to how it came into his possession and who told him to deliver it.  
“A man just stopped me in the street,” he had said softly, avoiding contact with Xisuma’s strong gaze and keeping the brim of his hat low over his eyes, “He waved his arms about like a madman, nearly frightened the horses to death. Foreign man, could hardly speak a word in the King’s tongue. Never seen one that looked like him before. All he kept saying was number six, Bloomsbury Square. He gave me the package, Dr. Void. Pressed a guinea coin in my hand, then turned and ran.”  
Xisuma questioned him further, “You know my name. Did the man tell you?”  
“Everybody knows you, Dr. Void. You are a man of letters.” The coachman smiled, “In fact, I can now say that you are a man of parcels!” At that he laughed, handing over the heavy gift and walking promptly to the carriage. Xisuma watched as he picked his way through filth and puddles, jumping onto the driver's seat and slowly drove the horse and carriage up the muddy road of Bloomsbury Square. Without hesitation, Xisuma tore at the parcel, unable to wait until he got inside. He sat on the marble steps and quickly pulled open the silk wrapping. It was then that he first looked upon the Nemorensis: a book so splendid in appearance that it caused his heart to beat faster. The thick leather cover was encrusted in gold leaf; the tatty pages were etched in sharp black that had faded with the years, scratched in small letters. He had never thought he would ever hold the Nemorensis, even if he believed it had existed. Now he knew- now it was his!

Late one night, several weeks afterwards, Xisuma was leafing through the parchment pages, trying to glean every piece of knowledge; and there in the sixth chapter of the sixth book, on the final page, written by an unknown hand in the margin, he read the word: Xelqua…the bright star shall fall from the sky...and many will die from its bitterness.  
From that day he had searched every corner of the heavens looking for the new star, convinced that this would be the sign that a new age was about to begin, a golden dawn to enlighten small, feeble human minds. Generations spoke of its coming and had faded away before seeing the enlightenment. The illumination of the world was drawing near and he would be the first to see it, the first to tell the world.  
Xisuma sipped a cup of hot tea and smiled to himself. He looked again through the lens of the telescope that rested on it’s fine oak tripod. The stars and planets remained the same, the universe was unaltered, in a few hours the night would be over and nothing will have changed. He stamped angrily on the wood floorboards, “Blast it- will it ever come?” He asked himself impatiently, his words echoing around the empty room. He began to doubt his calculations and wondered whether by some chance he had predicted the wrong day, week, or even year. He looked again and more anxiously into the night, hoping against hope that somewhere in a far-off galaxy a new light had appeared.  
It was midnight; far in the distance he heard the sound of St. George's church clock chiming out the hour. Suddenly the house began to vibrate and shudder. The whole world lurched forwards, then backwards, and then spun even faster. Xisuma heard a looking glass drop and smash to pieces from a wall downstairs. Tiles cascaded from the roof to drop four stories, smashing like leaves of baked clay in the road below. Plaster fell from the ceiling. At any moment he thought the house would fall to the ground.  
In an instant the stars vanished. Time and time again, the sun rose, then set; night became morning, then night again. Eleven suns came, followed by eleven moons, rising and setting from the east and west. There was no way to understand what was happening. Xisuma held fast to the telescope and tripod, hoping that each jolt would be the last, hoping that each dawn would not blast into daylight then into night- hoping that whatever was now striking the world would stop.  
Then there was blackness- a still, sharp blackness surrounded by complete silence. There was no more day and no more night. There was utter emptiness, as if the world was over and the universe had imploded, sucked into some vast dark hole in space. Xisuma stared through the eyepiece but saw nothing.  
It was then that Xisuma became aware of the clamour and panic in the street. He could hear the screams from below as men and women grappled in the darkness, hanging on to the iron railings of the newly built gardens. Xisuma could not see the window. He turned away from the telescope and edged the three feet across the room to where he knew an open window would be. The blackness was so deep, so intense, that it almost smothered and choked him. His feet tangled in the long belt cord of the thick, green dressing gown that he wore over his clothes to keep out the cold. It was cheaper than a fire or warming pan, but now in the darkness he regretted his meagerliness and longed for even the faintest glimmer of firelight.  
He fumbled his way to the window. In the street he could hear the cry of frightened horses stomping in the mud, their hooves nervously cracking against the stones. Far below him by the inn’s gaslight he could see the terrified revellers spill into the night.  
The screaming grew louder and louder as the blind riot filled the streets. Pistol shots rang out as the militia fired recklessly into the darkness. The whole world seemed to be one the verge of magness.  
Without any warning, a blinding flash filled the sky. Far to the east a shaft of pure white light penetrated the atmosphere. No one could escape it’s brightness as it cut across the heavens like a lightning bolt. London fell silent; the whole town waited. In his room, Xisuma managed to find his telescope. He looked to the skies and the shaft of light came again, and again, flashing brighter and brighter, piercing the darkness.  
Xisuma saw through the telescope what he was waiting for. High in the northeast at the crown of heaven he could see a star, but this was no ordinary star- it was a sky dragon. Xisuma could clearly see a long white tail that streamed far behind the bright luminous head. A comet of such proportions the world had never seen before.  
“Can it be trusted?” he wondered aloud as he rubbed his face nervously with his hands, “It can’t be, I must be seeing things…” He said in a strong voice, hoping to bolster himself against the rising panic, that now gripped his feet and crawled up to his knees, “But the Nemorensis said it was so. The comet is coming towards earth...The dragon is coming home!”  
In the east the sun began to slowly rise. It was a quarter past midnight but the dawn had come. Xisuma chuckled to himself and shook his head. Outside the panic had ceased; the crowds that had gathered in the street looked to the sky. The stunned revellers wrapped soiled arms around each other in relief that the earthquake and sky-storm were over. They ignored the injured and dying and howled at the rising sun, which burnt bright against the fading black sky.  
Xisuma could not contain himself and had the urge to shout the news of his discovery from the window to the gathering below. He danced around the room, banging and clattering on the bare wood floorboards and swirling his thick green dressing gown backwards and forwards like a pantomime dame. He danced and laughed and he sang out loud: “Xelqua! Xelqua! Xelqua!!” As he twirled, he tripped and fell to the floor, wrapping himself tighter in his robe and laughing as he rolled around like some peculiar stuffed sausage. In the looking-glassed ceiling of the room he saw himself crisscrossed by shadows from the leaded pane of the window. He wanted to laugh until he was fit to burst- tears rolled down his face as his belly ripped and roared with laughter that echoed against each wall, then faded as it escaped the open window at the front of the house. Only he could see the comet; it was Xisuma’s Comet, the bringer of his new age.  
Then Xisuma became aware that a sudden and deep silence had descended. The crowd had stopped looking at the sky, people were now staring at the open ground of Holborn and the fields that surrounded Lincoln’s Inn. Far in the distance was the clatter of hooves banging against earth and stone; it was a growing fever of frightened horses. The beasts that had been left in the square quickly joined in, as if summoned by some unspoken call, kicking out those who stood by, knocking one man from his feet with a blow to his spine that dropped him dead to the ground.  
Echoing from Holborn came the sound of the horses approaching, neighing and snorting as they stampeded through the streets. Some still dragged the tattered and torn remains of once fine carriages that they had pulled. Others ran free of rein or carriage rod as they kicked and bucked, as if to rid themselves of the unseen force that snapped and bit at their fetlocks. The stampede filled the street and moved through the gathered crowd on Holborn fields like a cavalry charge, cutting down all those that stood in its way. Over a hundred horses turned into the square- grey, black and bay, once benign equines now transformed by fear, running for their lives.  
Xisuma looked down from the window; he could offer no help. He shouted to the crowd but the noises of the horses drowned his words, and he banged his fists in despair against the window ledge. Within the seconds the stampede engulfed all those who stood in its path. Their victims made very little noise- no shouts of fear, no time to run. All that was left in the wake of the maelstrom was the broken flotsam of human bodies, a jetsam of cadavers washed up by a living tide. The only survivors were those who had clung to the railings, hidden in doorways or jumped into the basements of the tall row of newly built houses that overlooked the square. There they cowered in fear like so many rats packed into a barrel.  
The reason for the horses’ fear quickly became apparent. Chasing the horses into Bloomsbury Square came a surge of a thousand dogs that appeared to spill from the alleyways, runnels and every corner of London. The air was filled with barking and snarling as they bit and snapped at everything in their path, controlled by a power beyond reason.  
The panic was intense, palpable and beyond imagination. Children who had come into the street to see the spectacular sky now screamed as the pack scented out their victims. Everyone ran, scrambled up trees or climbed the stonework of houses to get out of reach of the hounded. Street dogs, fine spaniels of rich men, deck hounds from river barges and preened lapdogs ran together, roused by some atavistic hunger.  
Xisuma looked on as a young boy scampered the length of Bloomsbury Square. He was no more than twelve years old; his shoeless feet carried him quickly over the mud, chased by several dogs that snapped at his heels and coattails. He screamed as he ran. To his right and lying helpless on the floor was an old woman. She was surrounded by a pack of dogs that grabbed at her arms and legs and pulled her across the ground like a rag doll. The boy lunged for the low branch of a tree and, reaching out at full stretch, took hold and swung from the ground just as a large black mongrel jumped forwards with bared teeth, trying to sink them into his flesh. Chaos covered the whole square as the dogs split into smaller packs to chase their victims into Gallon Place and Coptic Street. It seemed as if the whole of London was filled with the cries of people being savaged.  
There was a sudden and loud banging on the door of Xisuma’s house. The large brass tapping-handle was smashed repeatedly against the door plate, echoing through the hallway and up the circular staircase to the observation room. Xisuma looked out below. There in the street was Wels Knight, his best friend and Fellow of the Royal Society. He shouted loudly as he banged the door and tried to shake off a small brown deck hound that was gripping his leg.  
“Xisuma, in the name of God let me in!!” he cried, the pain of the bite tingeing his voice, “X, shoot the thing! Let me in, do something!!”  
The dog let out a loud squeal as he kicked it against the iron railing of the house. But then three large mastiffs slowly walked into the square. They were wheezing and breathless, their mouths stained with fresh blood. They looked at Wels, and even from such a distance it was like they could smell his fear. Xisuma ran to the door, knowing he would have to move faster than the dogs if he were to save his friend. Down and down he ran, round and round, along each landing, his heart pounding in his chest.  
Outside, the mastiffs stared at Wels for several moments and then set off, covering the ground towards him a yard at a time. They slobbered and growled as they ran, baring their large stained teeth, getting closer by the second.  
Wels screamed as he watched the dogs pounding down on him. He felt like a cornered fox about to be torn apart, ripped and eaten.  
“Quickly X, please! Let me in!!”  
Xisuma stumbled over his feet, fell one length of the stairs and crumbled on the landing of the first floor. He got up and ran again, “Wels! I’m here- hang in there, I-I'm hurrying!!” He shouted in a panic. He knew that he had one more flight and then the length of the hall before he got to the front door.  
Then panic hit him.  
The key. Where was the key?  
Outside, Wels watched as the mastiffs pounded the mud with their paws, racing each other, their speed increasing with the prospect of a kill. He braced himself for what was to come. He squared his back against the door and drew a small flintlock pistol from his belt, knowing he would have only one shot, knowing he could not kill all three creatures. With both hands he aimed the gun at the hounds. Relentlessly they covered the ground before him. Wels sighted the lead animal; it was larger than the others by a length. He aimed the gun a yard ahead and slowly squeezed the trigger. The hammer fell and powder exploded as the shot rang out, hitting the mastiff in the chest. The animal let out an ear-splitting howl but didn’t even flinch. Wels closed his eyes and waited. In thirty seconds would be prey for the hounds.  
Xisuma got to the door, which was made of thick oak, four times bolted and twice locked. He quickly began to slide away the bolts- one, two, three, four- counting as he went.  
“The key- dammit!!” he shouted, searching frantically for its hiding place. Then, look down, he spied the key on a small hook and cheered, “Yes!!” He grabbed it tightly and pushed it into the top lock, turning as fast as he could, knowing he had only seconds before Wels’ demise. He fumbled in his haste and the key dropped to the floor. He grabbed it again and quickly turned the bottom lock. It was stiff and hard to turn, but opened with a reassuring clunk. He slapped the handle and the great door swung open.  
Wels fell backwards into the hall, and Xisuma was confronted with the sight of the three hounds bounding towards him.  
The wounded mastiff summoned all of its strength as it leapt from the road up the marble steps towards him. Seeing his fate, Xisuma quickly slammed the door and slid the bolts. There was a loud thud as the door vibrated and shook with the impact of the hound, but it held fast. He heard the dog drop to the ground and he slumped to his knees in exhaustion, his legs feeling like jelly from adrenaline and body shaking as his heart hammered.  
There was silence in the sanctuary. Slowly, Wels edged closer to Xisuma and kneeled in front of him. He leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, his normally neat blonde hair now a frizzy mess; he cupped Xisuma's cheek with one hand and rested his other over Xisumas. For once that night, Xisuma relaxed. He leaned into the touch until he was fully cradled against Wels’ body, listening to the other mans frantic heartbeat starting to slow.  
As they recovered, Wels smiled tiredly down at Xisuma, “Never be that late again...” He chuckled weakly, looking at the door, “One more second and I would have said good-bye to this life…”


	2. The Calm before the storm

From the safety of the second-floor library with its polished floors and ochre walls, Xisuma and Wels looked out on the devastation in the square. Pistol and musket shots rang out as militia, dressed in their long coats, white breeches and black boots, executed the last of the rampaging dogs and horses. They watched as the captain of the guard went from creature to creature. He drew his sabre over each one and with a swift blow made sure that they were dead.  
The dead lay where they had fallen and the people who had sought safety in the trees were reluctant to come down for fear of yet another onslaught from some other beast. Those who had been attacked by the dogs sat in a huddled mass by the side of the road, waiting and wailing. A fine white mist blew in from the river, clinging to the house fronts and hovering like a funeral pall. It covered the ground at head height, hiding some of the people from view, covering the agony as a crisp fall of snow covers the dirt of the road.  
Both men stared at the scene before them. It was now the third hour of the night but the morning sun was in full blaze, casting thick black shadows onto the top of the mist. High above, a vivid blue sky obscured the sky dragon from view. Xisuma looked up, knowing that in a few days the secret would be out: others would be sure to see it and claim it for their own unless he acted quickly. Xisuma could not allow that; it was HIS discovery, a lifetime's work.  
It was Wels who broke the silence. Shaking, still slightly shocked from his nightmare with the dogs, he turned to Xisuma solemnly. “They...They weren’t as lucky as me…” He gestured to the body of a young girl being dragged away by her wailing mother into the ever thickening mist. “That could’ve been me, X...By god, I’m so glad you were in…” He wrapped an arm around Xisuma’s shoulders and pulled him closer, “One more second and that...those dogs would’ve had me…”  
Xisuma smiled weakly, enjoying the warmth of the man beside him, “You were blessed, Wels. It was not your time…” He replied quietly, his mind slowly wandering.  
Wels sensed that Xisuma’s mind was far away, engrossed in some other world. He loosened his grip and slowly let go. Xisuma didn’t seem to notice, his eyes unfocused. The blonde sighed softly before reaching up, using his opposite hand to cup the other side of Xisuma’s face and slowly turn his head until he faced him. Xisuma tensed as the motion brought him back to focus, warmth flooding his face and eyes widening a bit. Wels used his other hand to push the stray brown locks of hair in his face behind his ear, ocean blue eyes full of genuine interest and concern locking with his violet purple ones.  
“But you...What about you Xisuma? Tell me. You’ve always been quite smart. What do you think happened?” Wels had a slightly deep, soft voice that was warm and friendly. When he spoke, it was like a melody Xisuma could never get sick of. He tried to smile at X.  
“Those animals- the saw the hatred in their eyes. In those last few moments I thought I was staring into the depths of hell. What caused this? First the darkness and then the madness...it's absurd!”  
“It was foretold.” Xisuma's reply came swiftly, “As plain as the nose of your face, staring at us from the beginning of time and yet we couldn’t see it.”  
Xisuma knew that had to share the finding of the comet with Wels. They had known each other since College; they had shared each other's secrets- they were best friends for God's sake! The brunette grew agitated and Wels slowly removed his hands from X’s face.  
“I have something to tell you- something that I have to tell the world! You must help me- My discovery will change everything…”  
He whipped toward Wels and took hold of him by the collar of his coat, gripping it in his fists and pulling his face close to his. He ignored the flush of pink in his friend's cheeks, “Promise me, promise me one thing! You must-” He paused as he stared into his friend’s eyes, anxiety forming inside him, “I must know- will you believe what I tell you? Will you keep it a secret?”  
“Xisuma, you have known me since we were young...Tell me, what troubles you so?”  
Wels pulled Xisuma’s hands from his collar and walked him to the chair beside the fireplace. X sat down in the chair, his mood changing from excitement to trepidation.  
“Now, tell me what’s wrong…” Wels Knight had never seen Xisuma like this before. He had always been a man who was in control. Xisuma led an ordered life, neat and precise- something that Wels admired.  
“What happened tonight was no accident and certainly not an earthquake…” Xisuma spotted his forgotten cup of tea on the table and picked it up, slowly sipping it in hopes it would settle his nerves, “T-the foundations of the very universe have been moved by some greater power of which we know little of…” The brunette paused and looked at Wels eye to eye, “I saw something tonight that will change the way we look at the world. You see, I found mention of it in the Nemorensis-”  
“What? But that book doesn’t exist,” Wels butted in, his soft voice raised in excitement, “It’s just a legend- a fairytale like the ones our mothers told us...Unless…?” Xisuma felt himself become slightly giddy, putting down the china cup and reaching for Wels’ hand, tugging him gently to lean in.  
“It exists, I assure you. In fact, it’s beneath this very roof!” The blonde’s blue eyes widened, curiosity filling them, “It came into my possession by chance, delivered by God, one could say.” Xisuma spoke quickly and in a hushed voice, “I have read every word and finally I found it. The calculations said that last night something would happen. When the light vanished and just before the sun rose, I saw it: Between Sirius and Aquila there is a comet and it is coming towards us…”  
X waited for Wels to reply. Slowly, Wels blinked, looking away from Xisuma and into the burning coals of the fire, his mind unable to quite grasp what had been said, “What you witnessed this past night was not an earthquake or a sky-storm,” The brunette continued, “It was time itself. It was time standing still- Wels, we were spectators to what it was like before creation! A black, dark void of complete nothingness…” The blonde looked away from the fire and back into Xisuma’s eyes as if taking in his words as if for the first time, “Don’t you see? Today is the first day of a new age! Everything has begun again!! As before, we have the coming of a star, a comet to light our way-” A wide smile stretched across X’s fast, his eyes alight with joy, “And wise men always follow the star, Wels.”  
Silence took the room as X watched Wels, seeing the cogs turning in his head behind his eyes. The blonde slowly nodded, “Alright...Alright, first of all, lets get this out of the way…” Wels took a deep breath, “So, the book is real and you really have it?” He asked, still uncertain of Xisuma.  
“It is, and I do! In fact, Wels, you can see it for yourself!” X arose from the chair and stepped towards the fireplace, “You too can look on the Book of truth! I will show you the secret, my friend-”  
“And what of this comet? Why does it predict our fate?”  
“In four nights the whole world will be able to see it with the naked eye, in twenty-one days it will either pass the earth or strike a blow from which we may never recover. This sky dragon is Xelqua. The Nemorensis says it will poison the waters and many will die from its bitterness.”  
“Can you stop it? The comet could destroy the earth and everyone on it!” Wels raised his voice as he stepped away from the fireside and walked to the large window draped in thick green curtains, “If one sky-quake can bring all this destruction and madness, then what will the sight of the comet do to the people of London?”  
Wels took the dandy gun from his pocket and with his powder flask, he filled the barrel with charge. From his silver waistcoat, he took a bright gold snuff-box and then picked out a small pistol shot the size of a large pea, “If the madness will come again, then I will be prepared; I will go immediately and arm myself with weapons capable of killing any mad hound that ventures forth.” Wels loaded the shot into the pistol and charged the hammer-plate. He aimed the pistol out of the window as if to shoot, “The next time I face a dog from hell it won't be my leg it chews but this lead…”  
“Your lead won’t stop the panic and it sure as hell won’t stop the comet.”  
Xisuma walked to the window, and together they looked out over the square. Wels sighed, shaking his head.  
“I’ve never seen anything like this before X...normally docile horses stampeding, beautiful and well-trained dogs going mad, and now comets crashing to earth...and you believe you have the secret that will unravel all these things?”  
Xisuma shook his head, “Not I, but the book. And this secret is one we must keep to ourselves. There are others who would find great power in knowing what is to be known...The Nemorensis has the potential to change us all. It is far more powerful than the alchemist’s stone, and many think it can turn their lead into gold! I know that somewhere...somewhere in its pages is the secret of life itself…”  
Suddenly, they both heard a low growling coming from behind the cabinet door, at the far side of the room. The door was made of book spines that looked like they were part of the library that covered the wall from floor to ceiling. Halfway down was a large green leather spine with the title etched in gold: Opus interacto. When the spine was lifted the door would click open to reveal a large cabinet where Xisuma kept his supply of snuff, Physick powders, gin, and his most treasured possession of all, Artemisia absinthium.  
Xisuma looked at Wels and gestured him to be silent. The noise came again. It was the low, guttural sound of a large dog with a grumbling growl that rattled through its teeth.  
Wels took the dandy gun and aimed it nervous at the cabinet door. He looked at X, unsure of what to do next, then slowly pulled back the hammer of the gun, making it ready to fire.  
The snarling came again, followed by frantic scratching that sounded like a large creature trying to dig its way from captivity. The growling was then muzzled, and the dog snorted through its nose.  
Xisuma hesitated. He looked at Wels, who now held the pistol in two hands to steady his trembling. Then, X slowly walked towards the door. On the footsteps the hound growled even louder, pushing at the cabinet door in its attempt to break out. Xisuma reached out and took hold of the spine of the book and began to lift is slowly to release the catch.  
The door crashed open, and Xisuma was pushed from his feet. Wels froze, unable to pull the trigger. In front of him was a large brown wolf with its right ear torn in half and face scarred from years of bull baiting. It snarled through sharp and ravenous teeth.  
"Stop it, Ren," Said a soft voice, and a lady stepped from the shadow of the deepest part of the cabinet, "You're frightening the gentleman! Silly boy..." she said, holding tightly to the dog's thick red leather collar.  
The lady stepped forward, her face etched in shadow and sunlight. She was tall and slim, with long golden locks that fell loosely in front of her face. Deep blue eyes like sapphires bore into the two men and she smiled politely. Over her shoulders was a brown shawl; a white apron covered a loose red dress.  
"A-ah! This is False Symmetry!" Xisuma sighed in relief, getting up from behind the heavy cabinet door, "She is my housemaid..." He spoke scoldingly to the young woman, “I suppose you can give an account to why you were hiding in the cabinet?”  
False looked to the floor and held on even tighter to Ren’s collar, “It was the earthquake; I was putting out the candles in the house, I knew you were upstairs and I always let Ren in! He comes to me, protects me from the gangs of Drunkards as we walk home!” She looked up to Wes and tried to smile, “I was frightened. The house started to shake, we hid in the cabinet and I held onto Ren…” She looked down at the wolf, still snarling at the two men, “He’s...He’s all I got, Sir…”  
“Why didn’t you come out when I came into the room, then?”  
“I thought you would have been angry! You never liked Ren, so I thought I would hide until you’d gone and then let myself out…” False looked Xisuma in the eye and pushed her golden hair away from her face. Xisuma softened a bit, “Whatever made you think I didn’t like Ren?” His heart hurt a bit at that. Ren was a good dog who never caused much trouble for him, so he had not a clue as to why False thought he hated the normally lovable wolf. The tall woman furrowed her brow at him, “I heard you say ‘if she brings that damn dog around again, I’ll skin him alive!’” She made a poor attempt at mimicking his voice, and the brunettes face reddened at the memory. Wels looked at him with a brow raised and he coughed into his hand, “My dear, that wasn’t about You and Ren, but about something else much more...ah...Pressing…”  
Xisuma shuddered, remembering that day. He had been studying and decided to grab a snack. Not wanting to bother one of his maids so late in his night, he went to grab it himself only to walk into the hallway to see one of the younger maids in a rather scandalous position with a man who certainly did not work for him. Because it wasn’t the first time he’d caught them, he ended up chasing the man out. He threatened to fire the maid but quickly gave in to her pleads of another chance, knowing her family wasn’t the richest and she needed the job.  
The yelling from him chasing the man out woke up one of the older maids, a sweet lady named Stress, and he ended up venting his frustrations to her. Xisuma was embarrassed by the outburst he had, but now knowing False had heard it and assumed it was about her he felt worse. He quickly shook his head and changed the subject.  
“Did you hear what we spoke about?”  
“Some of it. Never made much sense, so I tried to keep Ren from snarling…” She replied hurriedly, hoping the questions would stop  
“The some of it you understood you are to keep to yourself, False. Mention it to no one.” False nodded with a smile, “Would you please put the gun down now? It’s making Ren nervous and I don’t know how long I can hold him for-” False struggled to keep hold of the collar as the wolf pulled against her, hoping to grab Wels with one bite and swing him like a captured rabbit around the room.  
Wels took one step back, clicking the hammer down and putting the dandy gun into the pocket of his frock coat. An uncomfortable silence descended on the three. He looked to the dog and then to False, “H-had it-” He stuttered nervously before shivering, “Have you had the dog for long? He’s so...big. Does he bite?”  
“Only Drunkards, and those who get too close to me. Just what I need when I leave here at midnight to walk back to Fleet Street!” False stepped into the room, keeping Ren close to her side. As soon as the pistol was away the wolf calmed, instantly becoming passive. Xisuma watched in amusement as his pupils expanded and he panted, tail wagging. False let go of his collar and he padded over to Wels, sniffing him and barking softly. Wels looked a bit weak in the knees and smiled nervously at him. Ren moved on to Xisuma, who lowered himself to kneel in front of the wolf with a soft smile and began petting him as the wolf sat on his hunches.  
Wels watched Xisuma fondly, almost melting at the adoration in the other man's eyes before he redirected his attention to the blonde servant girl.  
“The Drunkards trouble you?” Wels asked her, slightly concerned. False laughed and smiled confidently, her hands going to her hips, “Once upon a time they troubled me, but now Ren troubles them.” She laughed a bit harder, her cheeks flushing a soft pink, “They run a mile in their messy suits the moment he snaps his jaws at them, I tell ya!” Wels snorted a laugh in amusement and False folded her arms across her chest, “Dressed up and Dangerous, that's what they think. But you know what I say?”  
Wels smiled warmly at her, quirking a brow as if asking her to continue, “Gang of idiot’s with not a brain before them. They dress up and chase poor old men and harlots, but they ain’t nothin’ but cowards!” The man laughed loudly, finding False’s plain confidence in saying what she pleased to be refreshing.  
“Then you’d better go forth into the day and trouble them some more,” Xisuma said, standing as Ren went by to False’s side, “You hid through an earthquake of such significance that it altered time. It is morning, the darkness has passed, it is a new day.” He looked at Wels and then back to False, walking over and putting a hand on her back. Xisuma slowly lead her out of the library, “Take the day off and then come back tonight,” He said briskly. False stepped out the door and turned to face Xisuma, sapphire blue eyes meeting vibrant purple, “But tell no one of what you heard, please.” He stalled before looking at her softly, “If you do, you will need more than Ren to protect you, I know you understand False…” The blonde maid nodded and bowed her head.  
“I understand, Sir.” She said and turned from the doorway, glancing at Xisuma from over her shoulder, “I know you think I’ll talk about what I heard, but I won’t. I may be many things, but I will keep my promise, Dr. Void. I assure you of that.”  
“I know you will, False. I know you will…” Xisuma smiled, unknowingly charmed again. She and Ren had worked their magic once more and he hadn’t even realized it.

False left the library, carefully closing the door behind her. She ushered Ren down the stairs, but she herself didn’t move as she cupped her ear to the door and listened.  
“That was quite a fright X…” Wels said, “Almost shot her and the dog. Do you think she’ll speak of what she heard?”  
“Not False, we can be sure of that. She’s loyal, trustworthy, and she’s proven herself times many times before.”  
“We could have kept her until-”  
“Her father would have been here as fast as that dog crossed the square,” Xisuma butted in, “You would rather face the mastiff than Bdubs. If you think the Drunkards are the scourge of the city, then Bdubs would be your worst nightmare. He is a man you would never want to cross.”  
Xisuma walked back to the window and looked out over the mist-covered square, “It was Bdubs who got me to take his daughter on. Twisted my arm and my purse strings...He said she would be useful but she costs me more than any servant I have ever had…” He sighed, shaking his head, “There is something about the girl. When you look into her eyes it is as if you are staring at someone who has seen the world many times before, and knows more about life than you do…”  
Outside the room, False raised one eyebrow and tightened her lips to a scowl. She had heard everything. The threats of others coming after her held no fear for her. She had seen his companions parading through the house dressed in their fancy costumes and chanting like gypsies, and she had listened to their magical dances and acclamation. It was False who cleared away the burnt-out candlesticks with their black wax and the incense bowls filled with bitter myrrh. While they danced, she lightened their purses a coin at a time, a sovereign from who and a guinea from another. All done with a smile on her face and a “Thank you, sir,” as they tipped her for holding their coats, dispersing at midnight into the gutters like the London rats they were.  
Xisuma could believe of False all he wanted. He could fuddle her mind with stories of other worlds, mysterious charms and strange exhortations, but every day by midnight she had dripped one more piece of his wealth into her cup, and when it ran over she would be gone, forever.  
False left the men talking in the room and stealthily made her way down the stairs to the back door where Ren was waiting, his tail swishing backwards and forwards. The servants’ entrance led into a narrow alley where even on the brightest day the sun never shone. It was damp and, in the chill of the morning, deathly cold. The mist from the river hung off the walls of the surrounding houses like giant cobwebs that clung to her face as she walked towards Holborn. The only other person in the alley was a derelict woman who was slumped against the gate of the house opposite. The bottle of gin in her hand was almost lost in the crumpled mass of ragged clothes, skin and bone which made up her human form. She was as ugly as the grave, with a lined face and blistered lips. She looked at False through one open eye; the other was crusted shot.  
“Give a penny to an old mother!” The woman cried out, “Just a penny so I can buy a bottle of Geneva!”  
False ignored her and set off at a pace. Ren ran over to the woman and sniffed at her face before he jumped back, unsure as to who or what she was.  
“Ren! Leave her!” False shouted, her voice echoing along the dark alleyway.  
The wolf leapt away from the woman and shook itself, shivering as every hair on its back stood on end. The woman dropped the bottle from her numb fingers, and it clattered as it rolled over the cobbles. Ren followed False down the gentle slope of the passageway, stopping every now and then to turn and look at the old woman. It was as if he could see her in a different way, could look beneath the dirty, stained clothes and see the creature within.  
It was a creature he did not trust.  
The quiet of the alley quickly gave way to the bustle of Holborn. Wagons and carriages packed the street, heading for the safety of the Vauxhall countryside. Everywhere, a throng of people shocked from their beds by the quake were now mesmerized by the sun that was penetrating the layer of river mist. High above the dome of St. Paul’s, the bright red sun burnt in a pale sky. A fresh brew blew through the streets and brought with it the smell of the tide, like roasted nutmeg. False stepped out along Holborn, picking her way through the noise and the hordes of people gathered outside the shops and taverns. She took the dark, narrow alley that cut through from Holborn to the Ship Tavern and the gambling houses of Whetstone Park.  
Three nights before, there had been a murder in Inigo Alley. False could see the bloodstains on the wall from where the murdered man tried to escape. His screams had been heard from the street and even though people came quickly to his aid, no one else was found. It was as if the murderer had simply vanished into thin air.  
Cold shivers ran down her spine as Ren pushed by her with a rumbling growl. Then he stopped in his tracks and started to bark loudly. There was no one in the alley and yet he growled and snarled.  
“Stop it Ren, you’re frightening me!” She shouted. The dog was now jumping up and down and snarling louder and louder, “Ren, stop-”  
Without any sound, False was grabbed from behind and a hand covered her mouth. She was pulled through a doorway that she hadn’t even realized was there. The door slammed shut and she was trapped in complete darkness. False could hear the heavy breathing of the person holding her. She could feel the dampness of the gloved hand that smothered her face.  
“Don’t scream, girlie, not if you want to see your dog of the light of day again.” It was the voice of the woman from the alleyway, “I’ve been watching you, day and night. I know you coming in and going out.” The woman pressed close to False, “I could have snatched you whenever I liked but it's not you I want. There’s something I need you to do. When you leave Void’s house tomorrow night, come to Inigo Alley and you will find a message. It’ll tell you what to do. If you don’t, then I will get your precious dog and feed him to rats...and then I’ll get you.”  
False tried to speak but the strong hand kept her mouth firmly shut. She could see nothing, only smell the stench of gin, street dirt, and rotten flesh. As the woman spoke, her every breath rattled through her body, sounding like she was on the verge of death.  
“Not a word to Void or your father. They can’t help you, girlie. Tomorrow in the alley by the Ship Tavern, quarter past midnight. The clock of St. George will tell you when. Don’t be late.”  
Before she could speak, False was thrown into the alley and the door was slammed shut. She landed facedown in the grime of emptied slop buckets.  
Ren ran to her, barking. She turned as she stood.  
The doorway had vanished. All that was before her was the solid stone of the alley wall. False gulped her breath as the mist was drawn around her and the light began to fade.  
She turned to Ren and his eyes met hers. Seeing the concern in them, she wrapped her arms around the wolf.  
“Never leave me Ren. Please…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! False was really fun to write for this one and you all will be seeing a lot more of her, trust me.  
> At this point I've made Wels and Xisuma such pining idiots that the shipping ain't even "hinted".  
> And yes, Ren is a literal dog.  
> <3


	3. The Lodging House

As she ran through the chaos of Fleet Street, False could feel her heart pounding. Ren ran beside her, turning to look round every few paces to check that they weren’t being followed, scenting the air for the damp, foul odor of the derelict woman.  
Through tear-stained eyes, False could finally see the lodging house owned by her father on the corner of Ludgate Hill and Fleet bridge. The thick smoke from it’s three chimneys mingled with the fading mist from the river. Its narrow bricks and beamed walls jutted out into the street and held up the thick tiled roof.  
False stopped to catch her breath hoping that the fear would drain from her body. She didn’t want her father to guess from her appearance that she had been frightened. This was a secret she could not share with her father.  
Outside the lodging house three young boys wagered over two cockerels that fought in the dirt. The blonde watched as the birds danced backwards and forwards, throwing their spurs, trying to catch each other a fatal blow. They looked like two fat judges in powdered wigs.  
The larger, fatter bird had a fine black comb on the top of its squat head. This fell from side to side like a black cap as the cockerel jumped and ducked, kicking out it’s claws against the smaller fowl that had fallen into the mud. The boys squealed with excitement as the black capped cockerel leapt on its victim, slashing with its claws and tearing with its beak. There was hardly a movement from its prey. Death had come quickly. The eldest boy lifted up the winning bird by its bloodied legs and in triumph threw it in the air. The dead cockerel was carefully picked up from the mud and examined by tiny fingers looking for it’s weakness. Then it was dropped back to earth. It’s wings fell open and its head crumpled to the side, a single drop of blood issuing from its beak.  
All thought and fear of the sky-quake seemed to have vanished from the people of Fleet Street. It had been something beyond understanding, like a terrible nightmare, but now it was over. Life had returned to the commotion of before. The slope-covered road was swathed with discarded news-sheets; horse carts jammed the street as coachmen lashed out with knotted whips. In amongst the mud ran the sedan men, lifting a box-chair with its shuttered windows and secret passenger. They shouted “By your leave!” as they pushed through the crowds, running for the city.  
False’s heart churned, and the scent of the gloved hand still clung to her face. Shivering, she pushed the boys out of her way. As they lashed out in return, the eldest spat at her, “Oi! Watch where you’re goin’ ya harlot-” Instantly, Ren snapped at them, snarling as they stepped back in surprise and fear, knowing that he would love to bite into their flesh. In front of False was the faded red door of her house. The sign above it read: Bdubs’ Lodging House - Clean guests welcome!  
Inside, the smell of roast lamb filled the air. From the kitchen the sound of chopping entered into the hall. Ren found his place by the fire opposite the stairs, scratched and then settled down to stare at the flames.  
False dusted herself down, brushing the dirt from her clothes before she faced her father. Above the noise of metal slicing through meat, her father’s voice rang out: “False, is that you? False!!! Come here, please! There’s food I need you to take to Newgate Gaol. Half the town has gone mad and the other half is hungry, now get in here!”  
Bdubs’ voice was loud and harsh- his tone getting the blonde’s attention quickly. There was nothing very gentle in his appearance either. He was about an average size, having strong arms and legs with worn and calloused hands. He had deep brown hair that was often messy, with slight scruff on his tan skin, often seeming slick with sweat from the heat in the kitchen.  
False went quickly into the kitchen. Bdubs stood by the long wooden table in the centre of the room, his apron smeared with blood and grease. The black oven bellowed out it’s smoke and heat. It softened the wax candles and scorched the eyes with the blistering fat that awaited the side of mutton he was now preparing. Next to the oven was the fireplace with its thick wooden mantel, a cauldron for boiling water and an iron log-rack. The fire burnt brightly, sending waves of hot amber light into the dark corners of the room.  
Bdubs didn’t look up as he chopped a stubborn leg bone that refused to be broken. “What a night, hardly in bed before the madness struck! Rattled to the floor, shaken down the stairs and since then every man jack has been to the door wanting to be feed!!” He smashed at the bone even harder, spraying splinters across the room, “Strange start to a day, kid. I don’t like it one bit…” He stopped and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a bloodied hand. He saw the look in False’s face as a question about her mother appeared on her lips.  
“She is in bed, says she has a fever…” He muttered, raising the thick flat blade above his head with his brow furrowed in frustration, “Tch. More like she drank too much gin.” With that, he used all his strength to chop the remaining shard of bone, which snapped in two as the cleaver sliced into the table. Bdubs gave out a relieved sighed and laughed weakly, “All they want is meat wrapped in bread, and for the price of a penny that is what they will get…” He looked at False. She was never this quiet…  
“Cat got your tongue?” He asked playfully. False took a deep breath, “I need to sleep. It’s been a long day and an...oddly short night.” Bdubs gave a huff and a chuckle at that, “Xisuma will want me back by dusk, he hates doing candles.” False couldn’t tell her father what happened, he would never believe her and the lady told her not to say anything, else she’d hurt Ren.  
The brunette sighed, shaking his head gently, “I'm sorry False, but there’s more work to be done and plenty of time for sleep later, I really need your help here kid…” Bdubs spoke sympathetically as he slipped the side of mutton into the hot fat of the long cooking pot. The flesh sizzled as the fat exploded the skin into crispy blisters. With one hand he opened the door of the black oven, from which bright red embers sent a surge of heat into the room. Bdubs slid the dish across the table, gliding it gently into the oven and slamming the door shut in a satisfied way, “Done,” He hummed as he turned to False, giving her a grin, “How is Xisuma anyway?” He looked around before leaning in and whispering playfully, “Still got plenty of money?”  
False chuckled at her father's antics and dropped her purse onto the table; landing with a soft thud and a clatter of coins.  
“Two shillings, that's all I dared to take. He had no visitors today. I found one coin in his coat pocket, the other I took from his purse~” False smiled, pleased with herself.  
“And he pays you for doing it!” Bdubs laughed, leaning back, “In the box, with the rest.” He grabbed a damp towel, wiping his hands as he looked at her, eyes glinting in slight hope and a weak smile, “One day we’ll leave this fine London mansion and retire to the country. Just you and me kid- no drunkards staring at you every day, no mom downin’ every bottle...just us livin’ the good life…”  
False smiled back sadly. Her father had been dreaming of that country side home for years and they’d been working towards it together since her 9th birthday, and it was all the two of them ever wanted.  
“He did have one visitor,” False continued, “Wels Knight. He was chased by some dogs when the sky-quake happened! Just manage to escape- I heard them talking, said something about a start in the sky and a book. Stupid talk, that’s all they ever do.” False placed the two coins in the wooden box that they kept on the shelf over the fireplace, “Said the book was full of secrets,” The blonde uttered, rolling her eyes, “They said it would tell them if a star would crash to earth. I think they called it a Comet…?”  
“Knight, eh? Fellow of the Royal Society. A rich man, richer than Xisuma…” Bdubs mused over the thought of two wealthy men in one place, chuckling at the thought, “That Xisuma is full of his own importance. He wants to discover the secrets of the universe!” Bdubs said as he pulled a tray of bread from the oven, “Take care to remember everything he says; there’ll be those who would give good money to know what goes on in that house.” He looked up from the table and walked over, brushing False’s hair behind her ear as he smiled softly, “Remember False. Good things come to those who wait, and we have waited for long enough.” He pressed a soft kiss on top of Falses head before walking back to the cutting area and picking up the cleaver again, “Now, come and help. We have guests waiting to be fed and that quake might not be the last!”  
False looked around the kitchen. She had known no other place. This room had been her world since she was born. Every smell, every mark on the stained walls, every cobweb that had hung off the ceiling for all her fourteen years were known to her.  
She remembered the day when as a young child she had burnt her hand on the oven door. From then on it had been the dark grey monster that lurked menacingly in the corner of the room. She had stoked it’s fires with kindling and driftwood picked from the Thames at low tide when she mudlarked with her friends. As night came she would sit by the washtub that was always filled with pots and lard-crusted water. It reminded her of a ship she has seen sunk in the mud at Rotherhithe. The spine of the barrel stuck up like the planks of the vessel filling with the tide. In the corner of the room she would wait for the rats to scamper from their hole, searching for supper. Ren would chase them across the dirty stone floor, catch them in his teeth and throw them against the wall like rag dolls. When they were dead, he would prod them with his nose, hoping they would return to life to play a never ending game of chase.  
Her fathers voice jolted her from her dream, “Did you see the book that Xisuma spoke about? It could be valuable, and maybe we could relieve him of it…”  
“He’d know it was me and either way I don’t know where he keeps it…” False hesitated as she spoke.  
“If we timed it right, when the chimney boy-” Bdubs pondered out loud.  
“We should just keep doing what we are doing and not bother!” False snapped.  
“Losing your nerve, are you?” The man snorted and False huffed, “It’s just- it’s not a good idea.” Bdubs took a deep breath before nodding in resignation, “Yea, your right kid. Can’t be too greedy now, can we?”  
There was a heavy knock on the kitchen door and Bdubs slammed the cleaver onto the table. The door opened and Cub Fan stepped slowly and heavily into the kitchen. False noticed that his once fine clothes were now slightly tattered. His white long frock coat bore dark stains, and its lining showed at the elbows and collar. He was larger and taller than her father; his eyes tired and skin pale from lack of exposure to the sun.  
“Bdubs,” He said in a hushed voice, just louder than a whisper, “If I might be so bold as to talk to you alone?”  
Bdubs gave False a look that told her to leave quickly. She turned and walked to the door, “I’ll see to the other guests dad. They may need entertainment...”  
False squeezed past Cub and he smiled at her.  
“What can I do for ya Cub?” Bdubs asked as he offered his friend a chair at the table. They sat together and the brunette could see Cubs’ irises reflect an icy blue even in the reflection of the fire. On his face, his grey beard had grown out significantly.  
“It’s about my shop,” Cub whispered, “I have purchased a small property on Seething Lane, near to Hart Street? There are rooms above, so at the end of the week I will be moving in.” He paused, “I will of course still require your fine food- say evening at seven?” He paused again and looked back to the door, listening intently, “I wonder...would it be possible for False to call on me? I seldom get to talk to anyone, she is such a charm and would bring a pleasant distraction to an old man’s life…”  
“Anything is possible…” Bdubs paused, thinking it over, “For the right price, that is.” Cub replied with a smile. “This shop of yours, what will it sell?” He asked, eagerly searching for an opportunity to do business.  
“I will not sell, Bdubs- I will cure! I am to be an apothecary, so medicines, teeth, and skull tapping are my business. I have an interest in anatomy, but willing subjects are so hard to come by…” He sighed dramatically and Bdubs cringed a bit at the thought, “Must take a lot of learning to come to that, Cub. Those are higher things, higher than a man like me should think about…” Bdubs tried to look interested, but his stomach was churning at the thought.  
“Well, we all get sick- whether in body, mind, or spirit. I intend, when the time is right, to open a small hospital- but only if I can find those sufficiently interested in making money!” As he spoke, he looked Bdubs in the eyes, “I have made so many mistakes in my life, been cheated out of so much…” He growled under his breath, “But this time. This time things will be different. For a hundred pounds a man could make an investment that would be paid back many times over but! Like corpses, men like that are hard to find…” Cub slowly tapped a finger on the table as if beating out the rhythm of a secret concerto.  
“I may know someone who could help you in both counts, Cub…” Bdubs replied, his interest awakened, “The hundred pounds, what is the guarantee of its return?”  
“All I can say is that for the man there is always golden opportunities~” Cub chuckled.  
“There must be something driving you to do this, Cub. Caring for people, opening a hospital, there are high ideals.” Bdubs shook his head, “For me, I strive to do the best for my child. I know a good bargain when I see one and as long as my family are heart and well fed then I am a happy man…” the brunette side eyed Cub, “But you, Cub. What spurs you on?”  
Cub looked around the room again. He checked the door and listened carefully. The room glowed red with the light from the fire, and candles burnt brightly around the walls. The tiny window at the rear of the kitchen gave off no light from the street. There was no night and no day visible. It was a timeless place with thick solid walls that had stood again rebellions, colliers’ riots, and the plague. Even the Great fire had only charred it’s walls. Cub thought carefully before he spoke, drawing in a long and measured breath.  
“My dear friend, I have travelled the world in search of its secrets. From Egypt to persia I have dug the ruins of many cities. My search has been relentless, but that for which I labour is not to be found in the world, only in the deep recess of the body. My search is for the place of the soul…” With a strong grip, Cub clasped hold of Bdubs' arm, pulling towards him, “I know I will be the one who finds it, and when I do, I will be able to capture a human spirit at the time of death and prove to the world that we are immortal. Think of it, Bdubs! What would people give to see a soul, the eternal essence captured in a glass jar and on view for two shillings? I would be a rich man- We could be rich men!!” Cub gave out a loud, excited laugh.  
“You think this is possible, that you could do it?” Bdubs asked, drawn into the excitement.  
“It is like a jigsaw puzzle, for every year I have found another piece!! Now it is nearly complete.” Cub stopped and looked nervous around the room, “We can’t tell anyone of this, it has to be kept secret. The authorities may frown on my research and I cannot be so choosy as to say where my volunteers come from.”  
“These volunteers...are they...dead?” Bdubs asked hesitantly.  
“So far, yes…” Cub said quietly, “There will come a time when I may need one or two who are- as you may say...leaving one world for the next…” He again drew in a long and loud breath, “I would prefer them to be fresh. Some that I have bought have hung for too long and have been somewhat damaged…”  
Bdub shivered, “I…may be able to help you. I have a friend named Etho. He's a gaoler at Newgate. For a small fee he could be able to provide you with what you need...Have breakfast with the guests as my treat and let me think this matter through. It is a most unusual business agreement and I would want out partnership to be kept a considerable secret. I wouldn’t want people thinking that I’m having thoughts above my place in life…”  
Cubs stood up, grabbing Bdubs by the hand and shaking it furiously, “These are important times, the age of science and truth! We could bring a new way of looking at the world. In one year you could be the talk of London society, have your own supper box in the Vauxhall Gardens, a carriage or river barge, and that daughter of yours would make someone a beautiful wife~”

The hallway had filled with the guests awaiting their good and jostling with Ren for a place near the fire. False pushed through them and unlocked the door to the large dining room that formed almost the whole western end of the house. There was a cold chill in the room; a young fire struggled to blaze the damp coal into heat. It gave off a thick brown smoke that fought to climb the wide chimney and into the October sun.  
A long table stretched the length of the room with wooden chairs clustered around it. Four large candlesticks lit the table; they had been burning for some time, the yellow tallow giving off the smell of pig fat. A tide of people pushed into the room. It was a gathering of the bedraggled and the lost; amongst them were street performers, ranters, and a man who she has been told carried the marks of the crucifixion and showed them to the public for sixpence a time. The lodging house was cheap. Shared beds, a slop bucket underneath and a farthing hang for those without the tuppence to lie down. The hangers would rest weary bones by kneeling against a long rope that stretched from wall to wall. They would suspend themselves against it, to be kept from the cold floor, and like so many hung birds would be gently rocked to an uncomfortable and broken sleep.  
Breakfast was hurried. Slabs of hot meat, small round bread loaves and clay ale pots were carried from the kitchen. A clamour of eager hands snatched hungrily at the food, grabbing a pennyworth of hot meat wrapped in bread and washing it down with a mug of cheap ale.  
False waited at table after table, making sure that everyone was fed and that no one took more than their share. Mr. Scar Goodtimes wrapped his hands in two brown clothes to cover the bright white bandages around the entirety of his hands and up his arms. She looked at him closely. He never allowed anyone to see the scars that trailed along him without being paid.  
Watching him eat, she could see that he was in genuine pain: He held his hands in an uncomfortable pose as he tried to lift the piece of bread to his mouth. Feeling bad, False broke open a small, gritty bread load and snatched a piece of meat to place it inside. She handed it to him and smiled softly. With a look of surprise, he smiled gratefully and nodding in appreciation, “Thank you…”  
False had no desire to see the marks of crucifixion on Scar’s hands. She had no need of religion either. How could a loving god keep her in such poverty? How could such a loving God let a man like Scar suffer the way he did? Scar’s hands meant nothing to her, they were not as interesting as the dromedary she had seen outside Tango’s menagerie all of the way from the deserts of Arabia. To her, Scar was unlike all the monster-mongers that stay with them. There had been a boy with the skin of a beetle, a woman with three arms, and a girl with ears so large that they called her the human elephant. She had seen them all.  
False knew that some of these strange creatures were of human creation. She had once watched a man insert duck quills into his face and claim he was half eagle. Another had filed his teeth to resemble the fangs of a wolf and dyed his skin with tea.  
Scar was different; he was gentle and kind and made little of himself. He looked at her like a human being rather than a slab of meat and treated her with as much respect as he did anyone else. All he had were the bleeding scars that would never heal and a faked story of how they had come upon him one night in a vision he had begged to go away.  
Cub walked slowly into the room and sat at the end of the table. He looked at False and smiled as he helped himself to breakfast. He leant towards Scar and passed a comment that she couldn’t hear.  
False noticed her father leave the kitchen with a tray of food. He whispered in her ear before going upstairs, “We have a special guest- A poet. He arrived last night and doesn’t want to be disturbed so he will be staying in his room. Only I can take him his food, understand?” False nodded and with that Bdubs turned and trudged up the stairs to the top of the house.  
The blonde followed at a distance, intrigued by her fathers actions, listening to his footsteps. When he got to the top of the flight he stopped and looked down the staircase, putting the tray on a small table and then taking out a key from his pocket. False hid behind the wall at the turn of the stairs. She could hear the key being placed into the lock and quickly turned. The door creaked and she held her breath so she could listen to everything.  
“Do you eat food?” Her father said clearly, “Its bread and meat. I brought you water, somehow I didn’t think the likes of you would drink ale…” There was no reply. False began to breathe again as quietly as she could, listening for any clue as to who was in the attic. There then came the sound of chains being dragged across the wooden floor.  
“Can you take these from me?” said a weak voice that she had never heard before. The voice was light, fragile and pure, “I have neither the power nor the will to escape.”  
There was a long silence before Bdubs replied, “I was told by Tango to be careful. Never take off the chains, else he’ll fly away!”  
“Where shall I fly to? There are bars on the window and the door is locked. Am I crawl under the door or sneak through a rat hole?” The voice replied.  
“You are a strange creature and one who now belongs to me. I gave a good price for you and you may become very useful. Only moment ago a scientist was saying he could make good use of someone like you. But then, even he might be surprised as to what you are~” She heard her father chuckle.  
Bdubs walked across the wooden floor. False heard his every movement as he placed the tray on a table, “I’ll leave this here, take of it what you will- you could do to put on a few pounds. Your scrawny and don't look too healthy…”  
“So what is my fate? Will I be here forever?” The voice asked.  
“You will be here until I decide otherwise. You are a mighty fine creature and to reveal you to the world could be the making of me. What makes you so special compared to those downstairs, is that you are-”  
The front door was flung open as a commotion filled the hallway. Ren began to bark as the breakfaster’s spilled from the dining room and into the street. Bdubs rushed from the attic and False slipped from the stair to her room.

In the street below, a condemned man sat silently in a rocking cart, dragged through the mire of Fleet street on his way to the gallows at Tyburn. The metal bracing of the large carriage wheels spat out the mud like a fop trap. The man’s eyes were drawn to the top of the lodging house. There in the pinnacle of the eaves he glimpsed fleetingly a face pressed against the dirty glass of the attic window. In that small moment the heart of the condemned man was doubly broken. He saw a sadness on the face at the window that showed more grief than his own, and in some strange way he knew he had a gentler fate than the man into whose eyes he now shared.


	4. Inigo Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xisuma reveals the Nemorensis to Wels, and False goes to meet someone.

In Bloomsbury Square a dark, solitary figure leant against an old elm tree as its dry October leaves fell to the ground like a shower of golden coins. He shivered as he pulled up the collar of his coat against the chill wind that blew the leaves across the grass. Grazing amongst the elms, several fat sheep kept a wary distance from the stranger, who drew on a long clay pipe, the burning embers lighting his face.  
The clock of St. George struck the quarter hour from its high marble tower that dominated the crowded streets. Rumour had convinced many that at midnight the sky-quake would come again. Boy vendors shouted the story as they charged through the streets with bundles of the London Chronicle, proclaiming the disaster and urging the world to stay calm. Outside the Bull and Mouth a crowd gathered to wait for the earth to have yet another shivering fit, shaking the houses like the night before and turning the sky to complete blackness. Over the Thames a bright new moon hung against the rich purple sky, while the night women of Holborn walked the streets, lifting their long hooped skirts and white shawls, stopping every gentleman in hope of enticement.  
Xisuma and Wels had spent the evening in deep conversation by the open window of the fourth-floor observation room. They had dined on roast pigeons and mackerel, picking the meat from the bones and leaving the crusted skin on the side of their plates. Together they waited for the sky to clear. The strong breeze scattered the clouds, opening the heavens for all to see.  
Xisuma fumbled with the long brass telescope, trying to set the lens so that they could view the comet. For the first time he feared that he had deceived himself, that Xelqua had been a mistake, a smudge on the lens, a reflection from some distant light. As it drew closer to midnight, he searched the horizon more frantically for the rising of the comet.  
Wels waited patiently, wanting his friend to calm down. He watched Xisuma set the lens and the height of the telescope, and then moments later go through the procedure again.  
“It’ll be there X- I’m sure your eyes didn’t deceive you! Trust yourself, as soon as it is midnight the star will rise and you will see it again,” he said, trying to sound reassuring as he put a firm hand on the brunette's shoulder.  
“We will wait…” Xisuma replied, standing straight and pulling away from Wels. He walked away from the telescope and opened the large cupboard on the far side of the room, “I have something to show you and now it the time…”  
Xisuma took a large silk covered package and walked back to the center of the room, where he placed the object on the table. As he slowly unwrapped the parcel, the blonde felt himself growing more excited.  
“This is the book, Wels…” Xisuma gently touched the cover, eyes alight with wonder, “Written so long ago that no one knows by what mind it was inspired,” the brunette smiled, “I never thought I would ever see the day when it would come to my house, but here it is and I must thank the stars for bringing it here.”  
Wels stared aghast at the book with its thick leather binding, its ancient writing and weathered paper. Xisuma turned the pages until he reached the sixth book and the final page. His finger darted to the writing emblazoned in the margin.  
“There! It's right here, see?” He read the words to Wels, “‘Xelqua. The bright star shall fall from the sky, and many will die from its bitterness!’ It’s coming to us Wels, we are the first ones to see it and there is nothing we can do to stop it.” His eyes flamed with excitement verging on madness, “We have to tell the world, but I fear that if we do then a terror will take hold and we will have unrest like we have never seen before. And if it is not true then I will be seen as the biggest fool that has ever lived.”  
“Damned if you do and damned if you don’t…” Wels said urgently as he stared warily at the Nemorensis, “You have to tell someone, and who better than the society? Do you know where the comet will land if it strikes the earth?” Wels leafed through the book, trying to decode the strange letters and calculations embossed on every page.  
“As it hits the atmosphere of the first heaven it will disintegrate into thousands of pieces,” Xisuma replied, “The earth will be bombarded, and from my calculations everything from paris to london will be destroyed, the seas will be poisoned and much of the earth covered in darkness for a generation!” He looked at Wels. His heart skipped at the sight of those clear sky blue eyes drifting across the pages, brows knitted together in concentration. Xisuma felt his face flush with warmth and he quickly pulled his eyes away from the sigh, “How can I tell that to the society? They’re a bunch of overfed intellectuals who like the sound of their own voices, Wels! To a man they’ll think I’m simply stupid or bonkers and I’ll go straight to bedlam!” Xisuma paced the room nervously, and Wels tore his eyes away from the book.  
“Not if we show them. We can bring Lord Gladiator here, let him see for himself, and the others will take his word! I can arrange it for tomorrow night. If we wait any longer then someone else might claim the comet for themselves,” He walked over and grabbed Xisuma's shoulders, turning the other man around to face him and leaning in, “It has your name on it, X...All your work and calculation have gone into this moment, it cannot be wasted…”  
Xisuma's heart pounded in his chest and for a moment he was worried it was so loud that Wels could hear it. However, Wels simply took his hand and shook it in a firm grip, “I congratulate you tonight; tomorrow the society and then the world will see your genius, X. Who knows, perhaps the Nemorensis will change the world, and you are the one entrusted with bringing its knowledge to us.”

In the square below, the dark stranger kept watch over the house with blood red eyes that stared up at the open window. Carriages passed him by and a watchman stabbed his staff to the ground with every step he took. No one saw the dark shadow beneath the elm tree, or the glow of the smoldering clay pipe.  
False could hear Xisuma's voice echoing down the spiral staircase. She opened the small back door that led into the alleyway at the rear of the square. To her left she could see the lights of Holborn casting eerie shapes on the walls of the houses. The old woman was nowhere to be seen. She looked for Ren and called his name in the darkness. Her heart sank as there was no familiar reply. She was alone.  
In an instant she decided to run to the street. False picked up the front of her long skirt and gripped it against her apron, wrapping her shawl close to her. She dashed forwards, her feet clattering against the cobbles and slopping through the mud. Closer to the light she raced, knowing there would be safety amongst the mass of people who crowded the streets of Holborn.  
Then, from the depths of her imagination, came the hideous thought that she was being followed by some dark creature who was breathing down the back of her neck. The hair stood on the back of False’s neck as she imagined icy fingers reaching out to her. She looked down to the ground to make sure she didn’t fall as her feet sped faster and faster.  
"Suddenly False was stopped dead in her tracks and knocked to the ground. All around her was the noise of Holborn. She looked up, dazed from the blow. There, standing over her, was a man dressed from head to foot in the deepest black. He wore glasses that dark lens', but even then she could still see the menacing glow of ruby red eyes. He stared down at her and held out his hand.  
"Little people should look where they're going," He said in a soft but deep voice, "It is very late, there are citizens whom you would not like to meet or run into..." The man gave a gentle smile as he pulled False to her feet.  
False stared at him; he was over 6 feet tall with a thin face and a neatly groomed mustache, as well as neatly combed raven locks. A scarf was wrapped around his neck snuggly, protecting him from the chill of the night. False tried to pull her hand from his, but he squeezed tightly.  
"So warm, so soft..." He paused and looked into her eyes, "You are a woman who knows many things. For one so young that can be very dangerous..." Noticing her discomfort, he let go of her hand. False didn't move; as if she had been rooted to the ground, unsure of her next move, "Oh my word- Terribly sorry for that, I don't know where that came from...I see from your face you have a meeting that you must keep, someone who you mustn't keep waiting. Shall I walk you to your rendezvous?"  
False snapped, "Are you mad, or do you have maggots eating your brains?!" she replied fiercely.  
It was then that the St. George’s clock beat out the first stroke of midnight from the high tower. False pushed the man aside and ran towards Inigo Alley. The whole of Holborn stopped and looked up to the sky, waiting for another quake. In the distance a ship's cannon fired and a low rumble of thunder rolled along the Thames. London fell silent and waited. False pressed her way through the people on the street as she ran towards the alley. No one noticed her, no one cared- all eyes fixed on the heavens. The new moon was high above the town, the sky had cleared and there was a newness to its beauty, as if the world had been born again and this was the first night of creation.  
On the twelfth stroke of the clock False turned into Inigo Alley. It seemed even narrower, darker and more sinister than before. The traces of blood still marked the wall. False kept to the middle of the alley and looked about her, constantly ready for someone or something to leap from the shadows.  
The noise from the Ship Tavern filled the alley. The high-pitched shouting and laughter of men made the alleyway even more fearsome as they echoed from stone to stone.  
From over the doorway of the tavern a small lamp sent a thin beam of light that reflected from the low mist covering the ground at knee height. False couldn’t see where she placed her feet or if anything was hiding in the ground fog. The light danced around her as the swirls of vapor took on the appearance of faceless specter's.  
Then she heard the clatter of carriage horses. The sound grew louder as the metal rimmed wheels ground against the cobblestone. In the light of the tavern False watched as four silky black horses in funeral headdress came into view, striding through the ground mist as if they rode on the clouds.  
Behind them they pulled a fine carriage. The driver sat in his high seat, the collar of his journey coat pulled up, and at the rear stood two footmen with deathly white face and powdered wigs, their coats trimmed with gold cord and gilt shoulder knots. The carriage stopped outside the tavern, blocking the exit from the alley. From her hiding place in the darkness False looked on as the coachman peered around him and then carefully got down from the high seat and opened the door to the carriage. He leant inside before stepping back and holding his hand to the single occupant.  
False looked up as a short woman-  
No.  
A short feminine looking male dressed in a long, black velvet hooded cloak and a long red velvet dress stepped out of the carriage. The cloak glistened in the lamplight and swirled the mist with every movement. The male wore a blue bird mask. The outside of the eye holes were painted with a brilliant yellow and sparkles with a rim of yellow diamonds. The skin of his neck was a soft peach, but almost looked pale against the light.  
He looked to the alley and called out, “False! False Symmetry, I have a message for you!”  
False tried to press herself closer into the wall as the man signaled to her footman to come down from the carriage, “Come out, False. I mean you no harm, you can trust me…” The man spoke with a fine accent. It was gentle, smooth, and soft- almost sounding as if it had never been raised in anger or spoken an unkind word.  
“False…” The male continued, “I will have to go soon and what I have to say is important. Your life and your fathers may rest upon it. I know you are there, so come out!” The man didn’t wait for a reply; he turned and got back into the carriage. The driver climbed up the front steps and took his seat, picking up the reins in his gloved hands and steadying the horses before he drove off.  
“Wait!” False shouted as she jumped from her hiding place and ran to the carriage door, “I-I'm here, I’ll speak with you!”  
The door to the carriage opened. False noticed a strange design that she had never seen before on the bright yellow and black metal door panel. It was not the crest of a nobleman that she would often see on the fine carriages that rattled through Fleet Street. The door of the carriage was with a large golden sun, inset with a white human eye with a light blue diamond in the center that seemed to follow False with every step she took.  
“Get in, False. We have to go on a short journey, a journey that will change your life…~”  
The man sounded reassuring. False knew that to get into the coach of a stranger was complete madness. This had been the end for several girls she had known who had disappeared from the streets, never to have been seen alive again. She looked back to the alley, then put her worries aside. She stepped quickly into the carriage as a cold shudder ran down her spine.  
“Is it the cold or the fear of the night that causes you to shudder?” The man said as he held out a gloved hand to False, “My friends have been watching you for some time...They think you can help us, in fact they believe you have what is needed to be one of us.” Then, the door was slammed shut and the carriage jolted forwards through the cobbled streets of Lincoln’s Inn.  
A small lamp lit the carriage, its wick smoldering with a dark amber glow that flashed off the leather canopy and gold-leaf door. The man didn’t speak for several minutes. He just stared through the diamond encrusted slits of his mask, studying False’s face in detail.  
“You...have the lips of a liar,” The man said above the noise of the carriage clattering through the streets, “Do...you tell lies, False?”  
False hesitated, “Sometimes…” She said warily, “Doesn’t everyone lie?”  
The man smiled as False tried to stare back at him eye to eye. Cerulean blue met sapphire in a clash of wills, neither willing to back down.  
“You have the eyes of a thief...Do you steal False?” His lips curled up in amusement.  
“Only if I need to.” False snapped back as she looked to the carriage door, thinking that she could jump clear and escape. But, the man kicked his foot out, placing it between False and the door. False’s eyes flickered to the man’s, whose eyes were alight with entertainment.  
“I wouldn’t want you to fall from the carriage,” The man said, his voice changing in tone and pace, “Well, not now, anyway. We haven't finished with you yet~”  
“What do you want me for?!” False asked, trying to stay calm and wishing Ren was there to rip out the man's throat.  
The man giggled, a light and jovial tone- pleasant to the ears, “Aren’t you quite the pesky bird~?”  
False narrowed her eyes on him and he settled down, sighing at her unamusement, “Not to offend you, but the only pesky bird here is you.” He paused and huffed, rolling his eyes.  
“Alright, sit back and listen girl.” His tone was suddenly serious, “and don’t think about jumping out of the door and running away,” The man said, “If we’d wanted to kill you it could have been done by now, you could have been just another street urchin found in the Thames at low tide…”  
False studied the man intently as the carriage rocked backwards and forwards. There was a strong smell of expensive wine, and the fragrance of aniseed. False had smelt this once before, when Xisuma had left out a bottle of his magical absinthium. The strong, sweet liquor had made her eyes water and stung her nose. Now the fragrance filled the carriage, hanging from the man’s clothes like a heavy perfume.  
“Where are you taking me?” False asked.  
“Not far. You are safer in here than in the street.” The man rummaged in his cloak, bringing out a silver flask, “Do you want some of this? It’ll warm your heart dear~” He said in a sing-song voice, laughing softly as he offered False the thick silver vessel.  
False looked away.  
He rolled his eyes, “It’s not poison,” The man said as he twisted off the silver cap and put the flask to her lips, taking a large gulp, “See? Do you think I would kill myself? Take it~” He hummed, “We are going to be friends for a long time. You will have to learn to trust me and this is a good time to start!” The man offered her the flask again.  
“If we are to be friends, then can I see your face?” False asked as she cautiously took hold of the vessel.  
“You might not like what you see.” He shook his head, “Anyway, it would be better if you only knew me by my nom de guerre, my name of war…You can call me- Sun.” The man smiled and False saw his eyes light up behind the mask, as bright as the diamonds, “Now, are you going to drink? It won’t harm you; it’ll do you the power of good. It frees the mind, releases the soul and warms the flesh~” Sun gave a pleased shudder of his shoulders and giggled as he spoke.  
The fragrance from the flask filled False’s nostrils with its vibrant odour. She hesitated before she slowly put the silver vessel to her lips, knowing that once she tasted it she could never go back.  
Sun spoke as if he knew False’s mind, “We will be family. I can look after you!” He chirped, “You need never worry about anything again. I can set you free from the pots and pans, the scrubbing and serving. Soon, you will never have to take another meal to a newgate prisoner.” Sun paused and smiled again, “I know you don’t like the way they stare at you. Take, drink…” His voice was almost melodic by now, “To a new life…~”  
The fragrance danced across False’s tongue as she drank a large mouthful. False leaned back and relaxed for the first time into the soft leather of the coach seat. The carriage rocked her like a ship at sea as the warming essence charged through her body, setting every nerve on fire and filling each muscle and tendon with new life.  
False felt more than alive as waves of pure joy washed over her. She had an overwhelming feeling of love for everything around her. Quickly she drank again, trying to swallow as much as she could in one mouthful, hoping that it would never end, that each drop would take her higher and higher.  
Sun took the flask from False’s hand to drink more of the liquid himself, “I remember it so well. You never forget the first time you drink absinthium. It has a magical power. Changing the soul and setting you free like a soaring eagle~” He took hold of False’s right hand and pressed his thumb into the palm. It began to burn as he pressed harder. False, numbed to any pain, saw wisps of smoke leap from her skin and dance through the air like marsh imps.  
“Remember, False. Happiness and pleasure are more important than the will of any god. Tonight you come fully of age. Tonight you will start to live for yourself and not for your father, nor Xisuma Void.” Sun lifted False’s hand to his mouth and blew on her palm.  
“You have done enough in your short life to have your neck stretched by Tyburn gallows more than once. I can save you from that. Stealing is for fools and pesky little birds and you will soon find that another world will open to you, one that you once believed could never exist…”  
“What do you want me to do?” False asked as if she were talking to someone in a dream, unsure if she has said any words at all.  
“You will see soon enough. It will come to you in a thought, an imagining that never leaves, a desire that has to be obtained and a longing that can never be satisfied. Then you will know what to do, and we will meet again...soon~”  
With that the carriage lurched to a halt, jolting False from her seat. A footman jumped down from the carriage and opened the door. False looked out to the dimly lit London street. She could smell the river and hear the cry of the boatmen shouting for their last trips. A street warden called out that it was one o’clock and that all was well as he tapped his staff along the wall.  
“London Bridge,” Sun said softly, “There is a man here who you should meet. Come here on Sunday morning before you go to Xisuma’s, and find the shop of the bookseller. He has something for you, something you will need.”  
The footman held out his hand and helped False from the carriage, quickly shutting the door and jumping back on. With the click of the lock the driver thrashed the reins and the coach rattled over the Bishopsgate cobbles, the four black horses in their funeral plumes beating out a trot with their metal-shod hooves, sparking against the stones.  
False was alone. The absinthium waned like a setting moon, its power ebbing as Sun’s carriage faded in the distance. The night felt colder than before. False drew her shawl close to warm her chilled boned. She looked at her hand that now burnt like a hot scald. In the middle of the palm was a blackened thumbprint that severed the life line. False spat into her hand and rubbed the mark with her other thumb. It burned more intensely, growing in size before her, taking the shape of a large blue eye etched in black. The pain pulsed with each heartbeat. False quickly wrapped her hand in the apron, pressing the damp material into the wound as she set off unsteadily from London Bridge to Bishopsgate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody:  
> Me: *decides publishing this around 2 in the morning is a great idea*


	5. Burnt Wings and Periwigs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s the good of having a secret and keeping it to yourself, hm? Here I am, a simple cook with an old lodging, and yet upstairs, locked away from humanity, I am the keeper of such a beauty the world has never seen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry for the wait! This chapter is a bit longer than the last few, and I had to do a bit more research. I do hope, as always, that you all enjoy!!

Bdubs sat at the long table and stared into the fading embers of the fire while Cub was slumped in a large wooden chair by the hearth, snoring as he slept. A small breeze wafted the candles that lit the room from their highplace on the mantelpiece.

“You’re not one for conversation, Cub…” Bdub sighed, “Thought you’d at least stay awake until I had finished what I was going to tell you.” Cub slept on, his head rolling from side to side as if troubled by the visions of his tormented dreaming, “It’s mighty stuff, not of this world. The sort of thing to lift from the pit of this life with it’s leeches and lice, bloodletting and pox…” Bdubs shook his head, letting a scoff, “I even brought you a feather, thought I would show it to you as proof…” He fumbled drunkenly as he brought out a long white feather from the inside pocket of his coat. Bdubs held it up to the flickering candlelight and stared through the white beauty that glowed with a brilliance beyond this world, “What’s the good of having a secret and keeping it to yourself, hm? Here I am, a simple cook with an old lodging, and yet upstairs, locked away from humanity, I am the keeper of such a beauty the world has never seen.” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, “But who can I show it to? Who can I boast with? Thats the trouble with secrets- they’re no good unless you can break them.”

Cub grunted a reply, murmuring the words of a forgotten song in his half sleep, “Purge me with hyssop...that I may be clean...wash me and I shall be whiter than the snow…”   
Bdubs shuddered as if he had heard the words of a ghost. He grabbed the iron poker from the side of the fire and prodded Cub in the chest three times, “Stop your gibbering, man,” He huffed, “You’re giving me the shivers, that’s church talk and there it should stay…”

Cub slid from the chair, collapsing to the stone floor, grabbing hold of the wooden frame like a drowning man clutching for a line, “Wha- What!!” He yelled out as his knees smashed to the stone, “Long way...forgotten so much...Come back, come back…” He shook and Bdubs watched him in worry, “Stalks me like in the night- a hound running after me...chasing me…” He woke quickly from his dreams, kneeling before Bdubs as if he was about to pray to him, “I saw it, Bdubs, and the words wouldn’t save me...I could hear its feet pounding in the blackness, feel its breath chasing down my neck…” He panted, frantic, “There is a creature loose and it wants to consume me, I tell you!!” His eyes filled to the brim with tears as he sobbed the final words that choked in his throat, “Say you’ll protect me, Bdubs. Let us be more to each other than guzzlers of wine. You are my only friend and each night the hound gets closer to me!”

“‘Tis but a dream, a folly of darkness. There is nothing to fear....” Bdubs clutched the bright white feather like an ancient wand, "Look! This will protect you..." He handed the feather to Cub urgently, "It belongs to an angel, the finest creature you'll have ever seen. Carried through the heavens on wings, and now..." He paused, voice breathy, "Now it is mine."

"Looks like a swan to me," Cub scoffed, "I have had my fill of angel feathers, pieces of the cross, and dragon's teeth. The world is filled with such things, all to be bought for a guinea with a claim that they can cure all. Load of bull, that's what I say!" Cub wrung his hands furiously, as if to rub off some hidden dirt that clung to him, “You are a friend and now a partner in my business, but angel feathers are not what I expected. There are thousands of bald-arsed swans parading their pink rumps through royal gardens.”   
“OI!” Bdubs exclaimed, furiously frustrated, “This is not some trick from a menagerie, it is as real as you and me! I have seen the creature with my own eyes and plucked this feather from its wing with my own hands, it is not swans wings pasted to the back of a man I swear to you, it is a real Angel!”

Cub jumped up from the chair and grabbed the feather, holding it to the candlelight. His eyes searched each thick strand of gold that pressed together to glow liquid white. It had the feel of rich, precious metal and for its size was incredibly heavy. Cub wafted the feather to the candle flame, hoping to burn Bdubs fakery- However, the feather didn’t even smoulder or char. In the centre of the flame it glowed more golden-white. He laid it in the palm of his hand to check the weight as his lined face revealed the workings of his mind.   
“Who...Made this, may I ask?” He asked, raising one eyebrow.   
“I suppose it was he who made us all-”   
“Rot!” Cub scoffed, “I believed that once but like so many things it was stolen away. Now I believe in what I can see and nothing else. When I find that which speaks of another world, only then I will again believe.” Cub tapped the feather against the side of the table, and with each strike it began to vibrate and resonate. At first, the note was so high that it could not be heard, but then the strikes increased so the sound pinched at the ears like the squeal of bats.

“It is very strange, I know…” Bdubs said as he reached out for the feather, “Now, do you believe me now?” Cub thought for a second, mulling over his thoughts. His steely blue eyes met Bdubs’ warm brown with a stern expression.

“If I could see the creature then I would believe. I have searched for years for the secret place of the soul. I have anatomised the dead of every race, looking for where the soul hides itself within us…” He trailed off, looking at his hands, “Neither in the brain nor in the gut could it be found. The heart is not it’s resting place and it could be decided that the soul does not exist. Yet to find an angel, a real living angel…” His eyes went to Bdubs again, “It would change all of that. Do you know of such a creature?” Cub was impatient, his eyes hunting each movement Bdubs made for some hidden clue.

“I can show-” The front door slammed as a cold gust of wind rattled the windows of the room and blew bright against the embers of the fire. Bdubs eyes flashed at Cub to be silent, “Who is it?” He shouted into the hallway, “Who is so late that they wake us at this time? We have no food till the morning!”   
“Sorry I am late, Father. I was kept back by Xisuma and the walk from Bloomsbury was crammed with people watching for another quake. Have you seen the new moon?” False spoke quickly, hoping to change the conversation as she hid her hand in her skirt, “I’ll be straight to bed,” she shouted from the hallway, rushing.   
“Too big to say goodnight to your old man False?” False stiffened and sighed, going back. She half entered the room, smiling at Bdubs and nodding to Cub, "You should be careful along the Strand False. It's a place of Drunkards and mollies- not for young ladies." Cub glared as he spoke.

"It would be a brave man who took on my False!" Bdubs replied, "Either that or a fool! She packs a punch stronger than any bare-knuckle fighter." He raised his fists in mock battle, "Come on, False! Show 'em your right hook. Knock me on my sorry ass!" Bdubs punched the air vigorously in a drunk stupor.

False stayed on the other side of the doorway. She hid her right hand from view, not wanting her father to see the burn mark on her palm, "I think i'll go to bed. I have done enough for one day."

"Come on, girl!" Bdubs said, his tone changing to insistence, "Come and fight your old man!"

Knowing she could not refuse, False stepped into the room, holding her right hand behind her back. Dutifully she took a long swing at her father with her left hand, "With feeling girl!! Hit me as if you mean it!" Bdubs said as he clenched his fist, "Come on, girl! I know you can do better than that!" He cracked the air with a fake punch that made False leap backwards.

It was instinct and years of this fighting that made her lash out. Without thinking she quickly jabbed her right fist through the air, striking Bdubs on the side of his face. He stumbled back and fell on his ass laughing.

"Told you she could fight," He said as he sat there and drew his breath, "She's a proper fighter, my False! The rough way around here's taught her how to defend herself good and well!"

False winced in pain at the wound to her hand. Bdubs noticed and spoke up in concern, “False? Are you alright?” False clutched her hand, holding back tears, “I burnt my hand on a candle.” She muttered, “It...It caught me on the palm.”   
“Let me see,” Cub interrupted, “I am a doctor, I can help.”   
Before she could refuse, Cub had taken two steps and grabbed hold of her hand, unfurling her fingers and exposing the palm to the candlelight. The eye-shaped sore stared back at him, the bright white line around the soft blue center oozing thick green mucus.

Cub quickly turned her hand away from her father, “Keep this well wrapped, especially at night.” He looked False in the eyes, “Show no one.” His voice lowered to a whisper, “and stay away from the place where you got it. They will want more from you than you could ever imagine…”

“What is it man? Let me see!” Bdubs said sharply, “She’s my daughter, I should be knowing!”   
“There’s nothing to know, Bdubs.” Cub looked at False, “As your doctor I tell you to wrap it in linen and go to your bed, you will feel better in the morning. I’ll bring you something for the pain.”   
False left the room cradling her hand. Bdubs slammed the door shut behind her, it’s thud echoing coldly through the house.   
“Lots of fuss over a burn, Cub. Sure it was just that?” He snapped, narrowing his eyes on the older man.   
“I’m sure. I have seen many burns like it and that one is typical. Now tell me, what of this angel? For that I would certainly give a lot of fuss.”   
“First, we have a drink and let the lass settle. Then I will take you to a place that is the nearest to heaven we may ever get…” Bdubs replied.

False closed the door to the room she shared with her mother. It was small and cramped, containing two thin beds with shabby horse-hair mattresses. A candle burnt by the side of her mothers bed, giving off a dim light. She walked carefully across the cluttered floor, avoiding the slop bucket, and then knelt on her bed and pushed against the stiff window frame. It gave way with a creak and the room was filled with fresh London air, bathing the walls in rich moonlight.

False looked out over the sparkling night. It was now bright and clear. Below, the fog clung to the pavement and weaved in and out of alleys and streets like a long white dragon, swirling it’s way to the river. Jet’s of steaming breath blew from her nostrils into the cold air of the room, and the rattle of her lungs and her night tremors kept False from sleeping.

Something was missing still, though.

Where was Ren?   
He always came back home. He never missed the chance to sleep beside her and without him there was an ache of absence in False’s heart.

Silently, False hoped. She hoped she’d walk to Xisuma’s tomorrow and find Ren again along the way. It was probable the silly wolf probably just got lost.

Rats scratched inside the wall, their gnawing adding to the cacophony of sleep as False huddled herself in a thick blanket, hoping the pain would go away and waiting for her mind to be invaded by the overwhelming desire that Sun had said would more. She remembered the luxury of the coach with its soft leather seats, and the luscious fragrance of Sun and his fine clothes. This was a world far away from the filth of her home. It was the world that she now wanted and would do anything to gain.

False watched the deep black shadows crossing the stained wall. She closed her eyes, waiting for dawn, and the face of the stranger in Holborn filled her mind, blazing red eyes boring into her.

_ “Little people should look where they’re going,” _ The man said in a soft voice,  _ “especially if they have already done this before.” _

False looked up in surprise. Etched in dark shadow, the stranger looked even taller and more frightening as he towered above her. The thought of fighting flashed into her mind, but her arms and legs were dream-numb. She was unable to move.

“That truly is not a good thought,” the stranger said softly, his blood-red eyes holding sadness, “Your face is connected to your heart, and your eyes speak of what the soul can’t hide.” He held out his hand to her, “Why be frightened of me? You don’t even know who I am.”

False couldn’t speak, the words choked in her throat. She reached out her hand to take his but found herself falling. Face’s flashed by, hands grabbing and tugging her long blonde hair as tattered corpses fell onto her.

There was a long, growling moan. False clutched at the bedclothes as she hit the hard wooden floor with a thud. Her mother snorted loudly. Outside the room False heard the sound of footsteps carefully treading on the wooden staircase. Quickly she leapt back into her bed and pulled the covers over her face.

The door to the room creaked open. Under the dank blankets, False knew she was being stared at but didn’t move.

“Sleeping like babies,” muttered her father as he turned to leave the room.

“Its good they don’t know what you are up to, Bdubs. You can never have too many secrets,” Cub whispered.

False listened to the footsteps climbing the stairs to the locked attic room, her father talking to Cub as they ascended the steep narrow staircase. She heard the keychain rattle against the door and the heavy lock clank open as sleep overwhelmed her again.

“You can never be too careful!” Bdubs said as he shut the attic door and turned the key, “I have to keep him chained to the floor with a set of irons. I was told he was faster than Jack the Lad and would escape twice as quick.” He showed Cub through into an even smaller, darker room lit only by a faint light.

“So this is your menagerie?” Cub said as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

“My prize specimen! For which I paid a king’s ransom,” Bdubs replied. Cub scoffed again, “So let us hope that he is real and not just a purveyor of swan feathers…”   
Bdubs grinned as he pulled back a dirty curtain, “Cub, this is my little angel~” He exclaimed proudly.

Cub sputtered in disbelief. There before him was a man dressed in a silver gown, spun from a single thread and trimmed in shimmering braid. He had peach skin and warm brown eyes like pools of honey behind thick glasses lens’.

“He is a very fine specimen, i’ll admit that. But I see no wings,” Cubs said, crossing his arms.

“That is the beauty of a true angel. I saw one once at the Piccadilly menagerie. He was fine giant wings that stuck through his linen shirt. They could even flap, but what you didn’t see was the leather straps that tied them to a human body…” Bdub huffed, eyes rolling, “Six months later he was back again, this time as a centaur with the back legs of a dead horse strapped to him. Still, people didn’t realize…” His eyes lit up before softened, “But my angel is real, and his wings are as beautiful as he is…” He reached and gently stroked the creatures face.

The angel didn’t acknowledge their presence. His gaze was firmly fixed on the floor, a look of deep sadness on his face.

“Does he speak?” Cub asked excitedly.

“He sometimes speaks, but neither sleeps nor eats. He just stares at the floor…” There was a soft trace of sadness in Bdubs’ voice, “When he first arrived he glowed, his skin almost shone like burnished copper, his wings were bright white, but now…Somehow he has lost his will. Something has changed in him.”   
“Something would change in me if I were locked in such a place as this,” Cub replied, his shoulders shivering, “But he looks like a man to me.”   
Bdubs growled, eyes narrowing at Cub as he tore his gaze from the creature, “An angel he truly is, he is no trick or jester! Underneath that linen gown is a pair of the finest angel wings London will ever see!”   
Cub noticed that the creature was manacled to the floor with golden chains fixed to a metal bang that clasps each wrist.

Bdubs grabbed the lack of the linen gown and lifted it high into the air, “There you see?! Wings! Flying wings! Angel wings! Real. Wings!” Bdubs laughed as he spoke, his eyes flashing over the creatures back, still disbelieving what he saw. The wings appeared to sit secretly in a recess in the creatures back shaped to the contours of his body. They were the size of an eagle's wings, with thick golden-white feathers that shimmered in the candlelight. Cub’s eyes searched for the straps that he thought tied them to its back. He reached out and slid his hand behind the wings, searching in the hidden part of the creatures back.

Suddenly the wings of the angel flicked back and in a split second exploded in size, showering Bdubs and Cub in a wave of tiny silver sparks. Bdubs dropped the back of the angel's gown, which fell through the wings as if they were not there. Both men jumped back, aghast as the sight.

The angels wings filled the small room and towered over the creature like a shimmering peacock tail, each feather emblazoned with a bright blue eye. Cub hid his face with his hands from the searing white light that now emanated from the wings, almost blinding him. He peered through the cracks in his fingers as the wings pulsated brighter and brighter. The whole room was bathed in a golden glow.

Then, as suddenly as it appeared it was gone, and the room was plunged back into the light of just one candle. The creature sat, his face sullen and eyes fixed on a cockroach that scurried across the dirty floor, as if all strength had drained from his body.

Cub tried to remain calm as his thoughts ran rampant, “You- you can’t show him to anyone,” He said quickly, “the world would go mad at the sight-!” Blood was pounding through the veins on the side of his neck and face, throbbing with each beat of his fluttering heart, “If I were you, Bdubs, I would sell him to someone who could use this to good effect. Someone who could harass his power, someone-”

Bdubs caught on and he growled under his breath, “Like you, Cub? Someone like you?” He interrupted, words spat like poison, “He’s not for sale! Not to you or anyone else. He’s going on display for all the ladies and gents to see at a guinea a time and he’s going to stay by my side! And eventually, I’ll be rich enough to take him and False and leave this dump of a city!”   
“He’s an angel, Bdubs! A real angel- He must be examined properly!” Cub strode over, trying to get past Bdubs as the slightly smaller male blocked his path, “I have an electronic accumulator, we could see what would happen if he were electrified! It is the best medicine about and could cure his melancholy!!” Cub shouted excitedly.   
Bdubs’ eyes flew wide and he tensed up, placing two hands firmly on Cub’s chest and shoving him back, “Quiet man! There are lodger here who could cut his throat for a farthing, and are so stupid that they could chop off his wings and sell them as swan feathers!” He pushed Cub out of the room before glancing back at the Angel, seeing those honey brown eyes now on him in surprise. He shuddered and quickly shut the door behind him before turning to Cub, “He doesn’t need any quack medicine. He is my future- and yours if you want it. But on my terms.”


	6. Malus Maleficia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ms. Vivens, Lord Sam Gladiator, Welcome!” He clapped his hands together and smiled, “Let us wait no longer, what I would have you see is soon to rise from the depths of heaven.”

Stress Monster strode along the long hallway of 6 Bloomsbury Square. The clattering of the tapping-handle against the brass plate echoed repeatedly through the house. She muttered angrily as she walked, and wiped the black soot stains from her rosy cheeks with the hem of her apron. The hallway was filled with a haze of smoke from a freshly lit fire in the drawing room, where the fumes struggled to escape.

“Yesterday! Everyone wants things to have happened yesterday!!” she said as she stormed over to the door.   
“The door Stress! Can you get the door?” Xisuma’s voice tumbled down to his maid from the observation room, “It’s Wels and the others! Ask them to wait in the drawing room, please?”

As soon as Stress unbolted the door, Wels smiled at her and stepped into the hall as she stepped out of the way, followed by a man in a frock coat. Next to him stood a tall woman with fiery red hair pulled back into a bun and peach skin. Her clothing was odd, wearing dark brown dress pants held up by suspenders and a navy blue vest over a cream white dress shirt. Her sleeves rolled up and dried ink smeared on her hands- a few droplets on her outfit.

Wels looked deeply unsettled as he led the distinguished guest into the drawing room. He sniffed the air, frowning a bit at the man in the frock coat that followed close behind. The ceiling of the room was obscured by a thick white cloud of smoke that hung in the air and stung the eyes.

“Dr. Void wants you to wait here,” said Stress as she shut the door behind them and smiled pleasantly.

Xisuma Void ran down the stairs hastily pulling his hair back into a ponytail, his green silk housecoat billowing out like a ship in full sail. Stress lurched out of his way as he opened the drawing-room door. “Gentlemen!” Xisuma shouted excitedly before glancing at the red-head, her eyebrow raised at him and green eyes gazing at him with criticism, “A-and ladies-” He quickly added on, murmuring an apology to Stress as well. He looked back to the group, “What a night awaits us all! The stars are rising tonight and I have something to show you that will astound even the hardest cynic.”

Wels stepped out of the smoke into the soft milky candlelight of the hallway and the other guests followed.

Xisuma greeted each by name, “Ms. Vivens, Lord Sam Gladiator, Welcome!” He clapped his hands together and smiled, “Let us wait no longer, what I would have you see is soon to rise from the depths of heaven.” He turned and gestured for them to follow up the stairs.

“I hope this won’t take long Xisuma,” Cleo spoke up in a precise voice as she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, “I have a table at cards waiting and I really can’t see what all the fuss is about. Wels was most adamant it had to be tonight- Acting like a madman he was.”   
“Let God preserve us from madness and Bedlam,” Xisuma replied quickly, “If what I believe is true what you see tonight may herald more insanity than anything you have seen in the king’s madhouse!” Xisuma stooped on the stairway and turned to face the group, “I must ask you before we go any further. What you see tonight is a secret to be kept until the proper time. You, Vivens, are here not for any grasp of science but for the fact that you need a story for the scandal sheet you call a newspaper. In three days time you can broadcast to the world what you see tonight, is that agreed?”   
Cleo looked to the floor and wiped her fingers along the banister rail thoughtfully. She held out a dust-stained finger to Xisuma with a smirk, "Dirt! It's everywhere, and it's my job to tell the world about it! Kings and slaves, rich and poor, none of them can escape it! It fills our streets and fills our minds and I am here to expose it to the world!"

"Yes, and to whoever wants to buy the London Chronicle," Wels butted in, "Do you agree with him or not? If so then we carry on, if not I will throw you down the stairs and you can go and play cards with the shadier clients of yours."

Cleo turned and glared eye to eye with Wels. She was a gentle but also tough and strong-looking woman who was known not to take much shit from others, and the blonde man was obviously no exception, “You will  _ what _ , Wels? Throw me  _ where,  _ Wels?” She seized Wels by his collar and brought him closer, voice a sickeningly sweet tone, “Would you like to fly, my friend? Because You could be the first scientist to experience the wonder of flight in a minute here. Hell, there's a window right there...” Cleo shoved him back and he stumbled a bit, “I am in this, Wels, because I smell a good story and I’ll keep your game as long as I have to. But do not think for a moment I'll let you try to intimidate me...”   
Xisuma grabbed Wels’ arm and tugged him away worriedly as Lord Gladiator seemed to be eager towards the tension in the room- but remained silent, “Gentlemen, let us continue. The stars will not wait! We have so much to talk about and so much to see.” He laughed nervously and quickly paced up the remaining flight of stairs to the observation room.

The large brass telescope pointed to the night sky. It was set to the very crown of heaven where the sky was at its blackest and the dim light from the London streets could not penetrate.

“Come in, come in!” Xisuma ushered them in excitedly, “Gather round and I will explain what you are about to see.”   
Xisuma spoke to Cleo as if she was the only one to be convinced. He knew that Lord Gladiator and Wels would believe whatever he had to say. They were Royal Society men and knew Xisuma well. To convince Cleo was vital- she could tell the world of  _ Xisuma  _ Comet. For several minutes Xisuma spoke of what he had found, pacing the room vigorously, waving his hand and pointing to the sky. The gathering listened quietly. Even Cleo stood and watched his every move, hands on her hips as she was intrigued as to what would come next.

“You see, ladies and gentlemen, this could mean the end…” Xisuma took a deep breath and combed back the locks of hair that had fallen out of place and into his face, “The end of all life from here to Paris. Or the comet could miss the earth and show us with rocks for space…” He looked at them pleadingly, “How do you tell that to the world without them all going mad or hanging me as a liar if I’m wrong?” Xisuma stopped speaking, panting slightly from the long-winded rant.

“So how do you know it will strike here?” Cleo asked.

“From the height of the comet in the eastern sky and from the turn of the planet divided by the distance it has traveled so far it will either smash into the earth right around London or pass just slightly above our heads.”

“The comet- if it is to strike Earth, when will it happen?” Sam asked, the slight smile on his lips sending an unsettled shudder through Xisuma, “I cannot be sure, but I know that in twenty days we will either still be here or the dust of Cheapside will be mingled with our bones.”

Xisuma walked to the telescope, “It is time for you to see for yourselves. There is some cloud, but the comet can be seen. It is getting closer with each day- much closer…”

Sam stepped forwards and looked through the lens of the telescope at the star that hurtled through deep space towards them.

Cleo looked up impatiently, awaiting her turn. She tapped her foot against a loose floorboard and let her eyes wander around the room. Finally, Sam stepped away from the telescope and Cleo saw a strange look sweep across his face. She stepped to the eyepiece and stooped down to look into space.

There before her was a small ball of reddish-white light, a speeding mass the size of a fist, its long tail stretching off into the distance. To Cleo, it looked as threatening as the lights on London Bridge.

“Is that it? Is that what all the fuss is about?” She scoffed, “It's beyond the heavens, man! How can you worry about that?”   
“If you knew the first thing about science you would be greatly concerned.” Wels replied before anyone else could speak, “From the shape of the comet's tail it is clear that its coming towards us.” Sam butted in, “Your job is to break the news to the world but not the truth. That would be too much for people to understand- and we cannot have London alarmed, there could be a revolution.”   
Cleo looked at him in disbelief, “So what do you want me to say? ‘Comet found, night spectacular to illuminate London’?!” Xisuma flinched back at the anger in Cleo’s voice, yet Sam seemed only annoyed, “I know, even better: ‘The hottest thing since the Great Fire and it’s coming right to your doorstep!’ Is that the headline you want me to write? Who’s to say there isn’t some other fool scientist watching the thing right now and about to tell the world what you don’t want them to know?!”

“That's why on Monday you must publish that Xisuma has found a comet,” Sam said as he closed the window to the room and pulled the curtains over the glass, “Say that it will miss the Earth, and that I have confirmed Xisuma’s calculations. The Royal Society says-”   
“The Royal Society, that wonderful collection of misfits and charlatans! Blind them with new science, is that what you’d have me do?” Cleo asked, “Look what happened the other night. One tremor and the whole city was in an uproar, there were over a hundred people killed- Explain that to me. What caused that? Why did all the dogs in London go mad? None of you can give me an answer. Science, my dear friends, has been held in the balance and found wanting. You should all stick to trying to make gold from lead! Isn’t that how it all started? Glorified Sorcerers, the lot of you!”   
Cleo walked to the door, pushing Wels out of the way, “You’ll get your story, Gladiator, but I want to know what is happening and if it is going to hit I want me and my family's carriage to be the first on the North road out of this stinking city! Now if you’ll excuse me, I have _pressing_ business!”   
Cleo slammed the door and stormed down the stairs, the click of her heeled boots could be heard as she rushed down the steps and there was a loud bang as she left the house.

The scientists stood in the dim candlelight and looked at each other.

“What will she do…?” Wels asked as he cautiously broke the strange silence that had fallen in the room.

“She will do what I say and she knows it. With my money she’d have no paper, but that is not common knowledge.” Sam replied, oddly calm as his red eyes stayed on the door.

“Why now, X? First the tremor and now the comet,” Wels said quietly, his eyes meeting Xisumas, “If I were a religious man I would say this was the last judgment and this monster in space is the creator's way of bringing an end to us all. He promised never again to send a flood, but there was no mention of stars falling to earth.”   
“You are right,” Xisuma sighed, “As you quite rightly say, there is no mention of stars crashing from space, and what we observe is a scientific problem, not a spiritual one. As scientists, it is our duty to our craft to give a good, clear insight into what is happening and give a warning to the world in due season.”   
“Or no warning at all,” Sam said coldly, “I don’t think we should tell the people the possibilities. The king as our patron must know so he can go to a place of safety, and our families, servants, and fellow members of the society. It should be done in a way as to not attract any panic, but I will tell Vivens that no mention shall be made of where the comet may strike. The London Chronicle will ridicule any scientist or quack doctor who dares to say the comet will strike the earth…” Sam paused, and a surge of dark inspiration rushed through him, “We could invite all the people to a party to see the star pass the earth! Our’s could be safely out of the way in the north, theirs could be in Hyde Park by Triple Tree.”   
“They would be condemned to death! It would be a disaster!!” Wels said in disbelief.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” asked Sam, eyes flashing with malintent, “It would only be finishing what we started with the Great Fire. There is a need for the world to be cleansed of ignorance, superstition and fear. This could be a way of achieving such an outcome!” He chuckled, “What you call a tragic disaster? I would call an opportunity~” Sam looked at the two men. There was a passion in his eyes that Xisuma had never seen before, “Newgate can’t hold any more prisoners and Bedlam is crammed with the mad. An apocalypse of this magnitude would clear London of every ounce of scum that litters its streets- Not a bad evening’s entertainment~” Sam smiled at Xisuma, “Cleo and I will take chocolate with you at Nando’s coffeehouse tonight at eleven. I bid you goodnight, and may we all keep this a secret.”   
Sam walked to the door of the room and, pushing past Stress, quickly left the house.

Wels looked at Xisuma, the two of them clearly shaken, “You- you never told him what it said in the Nemorensis. You had an opportunity to tell him everything and you didn’t!” Wels said angrily, “What about the prophecy? Wouldn’t Lord Gladiator think differently if he knew of the book?”   
Xisuma took a deep breath and he stumbled to lean against the wall, looking suddenly a bit light-headed, “Something...something deep down tells me that Gladiator would think the same whether he knew of the Nemorensis or not. I cannot trust him enough to explain about what we know. He is a scientist, he knows little of faith. The Nemorensis is the truth of the universe. It is science, reason, and all that is eternal mixed together in one perfect truth. Lord Gladiator has his feet stuck in the clay of an insane man's reason.” Xisuma looked to the cabinet where he had hidden the Nemorensis, “It must be kept a secret…”

Xisuma looked anxiously at Wels, his brow furrowed with worry. He pushed off the wall and drew in a long breath, “I have something to tell you- You will think I am mad but...Last night I read the Nemorensis from cover to cover, and as I turned the final page there before my eyes was a new page with more inscriptions. It tells of a power coming into the world when Xelqua strikes, but that is not all.” Xisuma rubbed the sweat from his forehead, “This morning I-i went back to check my work; I took the Nemorensis from the cabinet and opened it to the last page. There were two new pages, Wels. New inscriptions with hand-etched words in the margins. Believe me, Wels- I am not going mad!!”

Xisuma rushed to the cupboard and, taking a long brass key from his pocket, opened the thick lock that kept the doors tightly shut. With much ceremony, he took the Nemorensis from the shelf and carried it to the table.

“See for yourself.” Xisuma pointed to the new work.

Wels stared in disbelief, “Did you do this, X?” He asked as he flicked the pages back and forth, his eyes searching for any clue as to how the pages had been inserted.

“You won’t find stitch or glue,” Xisuma replied, “It is if they grow from the spine like the leaves of a plant reaching for the sun. They are stuck fast- I tried to pull one from the book today, but with all my strength it would not move or tear.”

Wels flicked to the final page, “What does it say?”   
“It speaks of torment and destruction, fire and brimstone. The earth will shudder and this will be the start of a time of great suffering- The Nemorensis speaks of a creature. A man who can fly and has escaped from the heavens. He has the answers to our questions.”

“Do you believe this, X? Books that grow and comets that will destroy life?”   
“I believe what I can see and experience. I search for the truth-” Xisuma stopped speaking and walked across the room to the window. He pulled back the curtain, forming a small chink through which he stared into the square, “Come and see,” He called to Wels, “Every night, all night, under the trees stands a man. He is watching this house.”   
Wels peered through the gap in the curtain. There, far below in the shadow of the elm trees, Wels could see the dark figure of a man and the ember glow of a clay pipe.

“He’s there all the time,” Xisuma murmured, “Followed me to Piccadilly and back. Dresses a bit like a Huguenot- all black except for the red of his tie, very fair in complexion and never a smile.”   
“Perhaps he’s a refugee from the persecution. A refugee waiting to rob you of all the money you have!” Wels laughed.

“You may find this funny, Wels, but this whole situation grows stranger by the day. I believe there are powers at work that we know little about. If he is a Hueguenot, then he will not be here on Sunday morning. The appeal of the church bells will be too much for him to resist.”

“So why don’t you follow him? He will have to eat or sleep somewhere and even the French are not so blatant as to relieve themselves under an elm tree.”

“I have watched him, and he doesn’t eat or sleep. He is there when I go to bed and again when I rise. He never moves unless I move. When the wind blows, he just turns his back to it and props himself against the side of that tree. If I hadn’t seen him close, I would say the man was a ghost.”   
“Even the living have a way of haunting us,” Wels said as he stared down the street, “Shall I go and offer him supper? Perhaps he would be more comfortable if he came and rested with you, so you would both know where each other-”   
“So he could slit my throat and be done with it?” Xisuma snapped.   
“Well, let’s at least see the man’s face,” Wels said. He dragged the telescope towards the window and thrust the lens through the chink in the curtain.

“Wait- What is happening to him?”

As the two men looked on, the stranger began to vanish before their eyes. First, his legs turned to silver embers that danced like sparks of fire. Then his hands burnt white-hot as the light engulfed his arms and torso. Then, suddenly, he was gone. The leaves of the elm tree blew across the grass. There was no sign of the man, he was no more.

Xisuma stared into the darkness. The light from the tavern cast eerie shadows through the trees. Dying leaves hung like dead men from the branches and rattled against each other. Through the square danced imps of river mist that swirled in the lamplight. He looked again and again, believing that his eyes had deceived him.

Neither Xisuma nor Wels saw the small squat creature that scampered through the dirt of the street below their window and scurried like a hungry rat down the cellar steps of the house and through the open scullery door.


End file.
